Unexpected
by LeShyWolf
Summary: By sheer chance something changed. Gears were shifted, the world froze and the universe decided to throw me a platter, serving an unfathomable realm with blue aliens, a perilous job in Chora's Den, Geth and, eventually Commander Shepard.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: By sheer chance- a chance that resembled a glittered turd- something changed. Gears were shifted, the world froze and the universe decided to throw me a platter, serving an unfathomable realm with blue aliens on stripper poles, a perilous job in Chora's Den, Geth and, eventually Commander Shepard.

RE-UPLOAD. Sorry, I may have, by accident, deleted the fic- IGNORING THAT, I'M RE-UPLOADING IT Q_Q

(I hate my life)

* * *

Nell Daniels.

My name was Nell Daniels.

Not Alice. Not Dorothy. Not Sam Tyler. Not Alex Blake.

I was Nell Daniels.

Sometimes Nellie. In other circumstances, Penelope. Someone even referred to me as Pen, once. That was an odd person.

I was a normal college student finishing their course, working frantically under the pressuring deadlines. I lived with my uncle in the UK, in a suburban town called Upminster around the south east of London. I was unemployed. I didn't belong in Wonderland. I didn't belong in Oz. I wasn't a detective. I had no skills with guns or close quarters combat.

So, why in Jim's Jesus crackers, was I sitting in the middle of a C-Sec holding cell?

The last thing I remember was having a stroll through some unexpected heavy rain in order to go buy myself some Ben and Jerry's. Cookie dough edition. I was listening to Slipknot through my blaring earphones. My boots were thoroughly soaked through due to a rather large puddle I had stepped in, giving me unpleasant, cold sledges as soles. I remember cursing the invisible man in the sky I didn't even believe in and I had continued walking before the brightest blue light had suddenly engulfed me. Then I blacked out.

I woke up in the middle of some sort of lake, spluttering and coughing water out of my lungs. Clinging hair in my eyes to block my view of the cruel, impossible world beyond me. A strong, rough feeling hand had gripped my shoulder and pulled me to safety, allowing me to spit out the water that that had forced it's way into my mouth and made me feel like a balloon with too much air pumped into it.

I choked and wiped my lips with the back of my hand, then spat on the floor and looked up at whoever had helped me. I seemed to stare for a really long time. My jaw unhinged, dropping to the floor.

At first, he said some witty remark but the longer I just gazed up at him he began to seem uncomfortable and awkward before he asked if I was alright, my obvious gawking didn't do too much to help my case even if I probably held a sign that said 'stable person here' to him.

Piercing blue eyes peered down at me. I sat there feeling like a drowned rat. My hair flat against my face and my clothes stuck to my skin. I continued to stare blankly at him, slowly processing every trait in front of me. The blue, metallic carapace. The alien, avian features. The mandibles. The sound of his sickeningly familiar, gravelly voice.

It was then I also noticed my surroundings.

The buildings on either side of me, and on the other end of this place are curved inwards, with a large lake in the middle separating them. Aside from that, the whole place seems to be built to resemble a lush garden, boasting of flourishing grass, trees and bushes along the walkways and bridges connecting one end of the lake to the other. Above, aside from the alien tinted sky, I saw lots of aircraft, with no visible engines, flying about in a neat and orderly manner like how traffic was back home. Quiet too, for a vehicle moving at such high speeds, those things are oddly silent with the exception of a soft whirring noise that its giving out.

The aesthetic of the place was unsettlingly recognisable. An earthquake shattered through my chest, my world crashing down upon me the more my gaze wildly darted around to carefully analyse my surroundings.

My thought process was ridiculous. Completely ludicrous. A bunch of bollocks.

The Citadel was fictional.

The Citadel belonged in a video game world called Mass Effect. This sort of stuff only happened in television and comic books and anime. Like Sword Art Online for example.

A woman wondered by, she gave me a curious, confused glance but quickly ignored me when I saw her. Her arm joined with another person- another woman. One with pale blue colored skin and a feminine figure walked past, her tight full body gown that trailed slightly behind her heeled feet, strategically and stylishly placed cuts that bared the sides of her waist. A gown designed to fully show off the curves of a woman's body yet suited for formal wear, to draw attention yet revealing not too much skin.

At first, it took a while for my stunned brain to respond and to process the fact instead of hair, she had tentacles.

The air was sucked out of my lungs and I faintly felt my heart skip a beat. No. That isn't possible.

A numbing shock had flooded my body whilst my throat constricted uncomfortably, brain loading like a slow buffer sign with a bad internet connection. It was like every fibre of my soul was rebooting, overheating with too much data being thrown at me.

A hand- a talon, waved in my face, as well as an impatient, "Spirits. Just my luck if you're a mute."

My ears perked, a nagging sensation hammering at the back of my skull. Inside the walls of my flesh, the bones had stiffened into stone and my blood was as solid as the ice in the Atlantic.

I slowly rose my gaze, meeting one of confusion, soft concern and mild annoyance.

Garrus Vakarian.

My mind came up with theories, of course.

One was that I had been hit by lightning and was very delusional and my head was in the state of an extreme concussion. But if I had been hit by the said bolt, I very much doubted I would've been alive unless I had been reduced to a vegatable withering on the ground hallucinating about being in a fictional universe.

I had been tempted to think I was on drugs. However, I sincerely doubted no amount of experimental drugs would do this to you. No matter how crazy.

There was the dream idea. And I of course had tested this immediately by reaching over and pinching myself in the leg until I left a mark. It stung like hell and I gained an odd look from the fictional alien I still hadn't answered but it pointed to evidence that no, I wasn't dreaming. This was real. Very much real.

That cancelled out the dreaming in a coma idea.

And finally, when I concluded the last theory, which was an incredibly surreal concept, the world around me started to spin, Garrus stepped forward in alarm when he realised what was gradually happening. Everything blurred, black spots started to cloud my vision like a curtain-

Then I fainted.

"Oh hey, the hairy one is waking up."

I let out a hoarse groan and licked my chapped lips before I moved my head to the side in a failed attempt to face away from the light. The voice of a stranger caused me to tense up and to force myself out of my groggy trance. My eyes opened and narrowed my eyes at first through the bright light shining in my gaze. Everything was blurred. Why is it so… white?

"And here I thought I'll have nothing more to do aside from staring at your unconscious self, thank the goddess." Despite my dazed state, it was clear to me that the statement was anything but thankful.

"The… fuck…?" I managed a tired slur. I pushed my hair out of my face and blinked a few times. A grimace twisted on my face as my vision cleared. Where the hell…?

"And she speaks! This day is starting to look better and better."

Pushing my hands against the solid mattress I had found myself lying on, I sat up and craned my head over to where the voice was coming from, squinting.

Dull grey walls, a small bunk on the other end with someone, something, sitting on it. A sealed door with a red display on the other end… Something?

My eyes shot wide open, an electric jolt shooting through my body. My gaze cast to the figure right in front of me, staring at me with a bemused look. Pale purple skin, an odd skin hugging clothing that dipped down the middle of her chest in a big v-neck, straps curling around her neck and leaving slits in her waist. It clung to her hips and covered the top of her thighs. A crest at the back of her head.

Asari.

An. Asari.

Right there.

What.

The.

Actual.

Living.

Fuck.

Her mouth twitched. "Hey, human. I'm not on a sex cam, I can see you staring."

I almost didn't process her words. Gripping the material of my jeans tightly, I forced my gaze away from her and stared down at my hands, looking them as if they'd give me all the answers. Okay. Don't panic. Just close your eyes, count to three….

I opened my eyes.

Still there.

Wake up.

I turned from her and span to the door, feeling my heart racing and my knees start to tremble slightly when I saw the red light. Locked. That usually meant locked.

"So… you are a quiet one? Shame, was really hoping to pass the time with some conversation."

Need to get out of here.

Need to leave.

Walking to the door, I put my hand up and tried to open it. To no avail. It was welded shut. I slammed my fist against it, feeling dread start to drag my heart down to my stomach. This isn't happening.

"Rude too, wonderful." A shuffling sound behind me as the Asari moved to lie down on her mattress, bunk.

"Hey! Hello?" I called out, grimacing at the croaked voice that emitted from my lips. I raised my hand and slammed my fist against it. I need a drink. "Excuse me? Anyone out there?"

"Don't bother, and oh, toilet's behind that low wall. That's where you get your drinks too so please, clean it after you're done using it. Athema's ass, I rather not be drinking water contaminated by human piss, don't know about you though."

Maybe… she knows.

Or he- they didn't really have a specific gender, did they?

Shit, here goes. Don't freak out.

The organ in my ribcage felt heavy and I sharply inhaled, then finally spoke to the asari, hoping I wouldn't lose my sanity in the process. "Where are we? Why am I here?" I should rephrase. "How- in Satan's shitty toilet- did I get here?"

Okay, I managed a few good words without stuttering, good start.

"C-Sec Tayseri Ward Downtown Precinct holding cell." She muttered offhandedly, sitting up straight and hanging her legs off the bed lazily. The wall was my only support, knees close to buckling. "How you got here, well, I don't know. What did you do? Kick a volus? Urinated into the Presidium lake? Slapped a janitor?"

This has to be a dream. This isn't real. How the fuck can this be real? Let me wake up.

My fingers traced the red hologram. It flickered, I pushed my palm flat against the surface. The door was cold. Solid. Real. It all felt too real. Am I really here?

This is fucked.

"You are not a serial killer are you? Hope not, I rather not spend the rest of my time here pinning you to the wall. Or dunking you into the toilet."

I ignored her question. On the exterior, I probably appeared calm and collected, but in actuality my mind was running a million miles a minute. A thousand thoughts per second were rushing through my brain, yet all I could focus on was the numbing haze. My blood pumped furiously through my veins, heart galloping to space.

This is really bad.

"I don't belong here." I said aloud, not to anyone particular. I was struggling not to lose it at this point. My fingers curled against the wall, trying to grip hold of something to prevent me falling into an abyss of madness. I don't belong in this universe, let alone this room.

"So said everyone who ended up in a cell." She sighed, words sharpening with her growing annoyance. I felt my breath hitch. What am I going to do? Where are the officers? Maybe I can talk to one of them.

I had no idea what I was going to do once out of this cramped space, but I had to keep calm. Having a panic attack wasn't going to solve anything. I needed to get out of C-Sec. They'd lock me in a mental institute if I ran around in circles like a headless chicken yelling about Reapers and alternate dimensions.

Even if I wasn't here- even if this was all some… crazy dream and I was in a coma- I had to concentrate. I had to keep my cool.

My shoulders tensed when a sudden thought came to mind. I crossed my arms and distanced myself from the alien, pushing my back into the door. The air felt restricted. The space too tight. I was never claustrophobic, but I suddenly felt trapped. "So, why exactly are you here?"

Slowly, a wicked grin plastered across her face, eyes gazing over my body in appreciation. My muscles stiffened. "Sex predator. Best hope someone lets you out before I lose control of my urges again, you certainly look cute enough." I chose to believe she was joking and let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of my head. Oh god, please be joking. "Public intoxication, not interested in your kind anyway. No offense. Too much fur all around."

Fur?

My fingers self-consciously fiddled with a strand of my hair. She's talking about my hair? Weird. Well, maybe not. The asari probably find it strange we have soft hair instead of those odd tentacle things. I know I definitely find that weird.

Another realisation burned into my brain.

Fuck.

I had no ID here.

I wasn't registered on the Citadel.

Therefore, I was technically a criminal. A trespasser, most likely arrested for just being here- even if I was forced by some unknown source or person.

The weight holding me up quickly vanished with a hiss, gravity yanked me backwards into something. Arms wrapped around my torso, catching me. I froze up at first before I craned my head around to look at who helped me. Embarrassingly enough- I let out a short squeak of fear when I saw the features of a salarian. Oh no, not again.

I quickly got out of his grasp, trying to settle down the feeling of panic churning uneasily in my stomach. I was borderline having a heart attack here.

"D'yseva, you are free to go. Now get out, I don't want to see you back here anytime soon."

The Asari let out a sigh of contentment as she raised her legs and pushed forward, using the momentum to get up on her feet in one elegant motion, walking to the door. She turned her head slightly as she reached the exit. "See you around, hairy one. Maybe we'll do business sometime." She giggled, and she was gone, the salarian watching her leave, large eyes blinking rapidly before he shot me a brief glance.

He looked…. irritated.

I swallowed and gave an awkward wave. "Hi, there. I'm… I'm sorry about... that."

Congratulations Nell, you're doing a great job of first impressions with these aliens.

He looked over at me in silence, not responding in anyway to my awkward apology. Until his hand moved, hit something, and closed the door between us.

My jaw dropped. What the hell?

"Oh what the- Hey! Wait a second! Come on!" My palms were sore when I continuously hit the door. Turns out hitting metal hurts. "You can't just leave me in here!"

I jumped back when part of the door hissed away to reveal a thin window of glass with the irked salarian officer on the other side peeking into it. "You'll be let out the moment we finish sorting things out on our end." His voice came from a small built in speaker on the wall beside the door. "Now be quiet."

The door stared back at me once more. My shoulders slouched as anxiety stirred in my gut. Sorting things out? What were they going to do with me? What the hell is going on?

My arms wrapped themselves around my stomach and I walked over towards my bunk. I hugged my legs to my chest and pressed my back up against the wall. The blinking light in the corner of the room from the camera mocked me. I gritted my teeth and stared down at my boots, struggling not to cry.

Images momentarily flashed in my eyes, to my friends and family. I felt my chest tighten painfully when I thought about them and if I would see them again but I swatted them out of my mind. I couldn't allow myself to think about that right now. I had to focus on getting the hell out of here and figuring out how the hell I got here in the first place.

And why.

What seemed like hours later, which was probably just thirty minutes, the door finally hissed open again, and the same annoyed salarian stood in the doorway. He greeted me with a bored monotone. "Come on out human, we have some questions."

The bed creaked when I stood up and I nervously, silently, headed out the door, sending him a sideways glance.

He led me through the precinct, passing by numerous other aliens who worked at C-Sec, along with the occasional human or two. I tried my best not to stare too much but it was impossible. I found myself gaping at a variety of things, even the simple holograms, like a naive fresh tourist. The salarian put his hand on my shoulder, fingers tightening and jolting me forward. I chose to keep my head down further on.

Bringing me to what that looked like your standard police interrogation room, he led me down on the side of the table facing the mirror and turned to one of the other officers present. "Where's T'laora?"

"Just transferred to handle the Northside case." The turian shrugged.

"She's supposed to be handling this." He growled, the aggravated noise rumbling out of his throat. He leaned out of the door. "Vakarian!" He barked, and my heart stopped. My head snapped up. "You got some time on your hands?"

Vakarian?

The voice I heard a second later unmistakably belonged to my favourite infamous fictional alien. "Yeah, what about it?"

I felt a hand nudge me an inch or two forward, keeping a hold of me so I didn't attempt to run, I assumed. Not like I could anyway, due to being surrounded by a bunch of C-Sec agents and being in space. I had nowhere to go. "Mind handling this one? T'laora's disposed at the moment."

Then I saw him. There was definitely no mistaking that facepaint, the turian in question glancing down at the datapad he's given with lack of interest. "You do know that I'm under the trafficking department right?"

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. What the shit. What the shit. Oh my god.

Garrus.

Garrus fucking Vakarian. i would react like that as well if I saw garrus in real life

I suppressed a scream and had to forcefully correct my jaw when it hit the floor before he could catch me looking stunned. An explosion of feelings lashed at me in the face. A mixture between awe, fear and a strong sense of nausea that punched me in the gut. Don't faint again- hell, don't puke.

"Then this shouldn't be much of a problem for you, not much of a difference compared to what you're used to." The salarian replied. And he was off. What's the rush about? He on a schedule?

Garrus, The Garrus Vakarian, gave a sigh, then sat down in the chair in front of me. I swallowed the hard lump that constricted my throat and moved my stiffened limbs, which felt rusted like an old bike, to sit down. "Alright, let's start with something simple, your name miss?"

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Garrus.

When I didn't respond, he cleared his throat and asked again. "Name?"

"Nell. Daniels." I forced out of my mouth, just barely able to enunciate the words properly. There was a clear strain in my response. Either he pretended not to notice, he didn't care.

"Age?"

Out of habit, I fiddled with the hem of my sleeve. My wide, astonished eyes unable to stop gazing at the alien. I pushed the answer out from my teeth, internally cringing at the high pitched octave that shook in my voice. "...Seventeen."

"Awfully young to be in the station aren't you?" He noted offhandedly. "Alright Miss Daniels, according to the report, an off duty officer found you stumbling around the Presidium at 18 32 galactic standard time, or 23 52 Earth standard GMT 0…" His voice trailed off before he looked up at me, eyes widening slightly in recognition. "Oh, you."

I threw him an awkward wave, giving a sheepish chuckle. Raising my hand, I wiggled my fingers. There was a cheerful note in my response, most likely due to the fact I was known by one of my favourite characters. "Heh, hi again!"

I probably look like a nut job.

He stared at me from across the table for a moment, regarding me carefully, then looked down at the datapad. Heat flushed in my cheeks. "May I ask what were you doing at that time?"

My mouth thinned as my excitement dimmed. I scratched my cheek, averting my eyes. I fought for a clever retort- something witty or humorous- but all that came out of me was a dumb- "Oh. Um… no?"

My own answer sounded like a question.

Honestly, I didn't even have an answer to give him. I was wondering all the things he was obligated to ask me.

All I knew was walking, drowning- now I was here. In a place far from home.

Seriously, what even happened?

This is so real, but it has to be a dream.

"You collapsed not long after that, and while there were no traces of substances in or on you, do you have a history of drug abuse?"

The question snapped me out of my fangirling shock, nearly making me laugh at the absurdity of it. "What?" I blinked. "No, of course not."

The only drugs I had ever used were antihistamines for hayfever or Paracetamol or Ibuprofen when I got a headache, then there was the Feminax for lady issues. I doubted that they'd have this strong of an effect to make me hallucinate a fictional video game.

Urgh, this is trippy. This is way too trippy.

I'm sitting here. In the Citadel- in C-Sec, being interrogated by the one and only Garrus Vakarian. Someone definitely messed with my coffee.

"Any idea, or past medical condition to explain your sudden loss of consciousness?" I shook my head.

He tapped something on the pad. From my angle, I could just make out a passport photo of me on it. I felt my back stiffen. Where did that come from? "Do you have a job? Place or residence?"

I shifted in my chair and glanced at the mirror on the wall. Usually people were behind those. I guess the times haven't changed that much. I don't have a place or a job. That'll obviously seem suspicious but I can't think of anything right now. "I..."

I wasn't a great liar in the face of pressure. I never really liked lying, it was just easier to tell the truth most of the times. Amnesia was a thing that came to mind, though. If I tried hard enough I could play off having amnesia and avoid the questions that would lead to me to my ultimate doom.

To pull it off would be difficult, but it seemed easier to pretend not to remember.

Fuck, come on.

He sighed, again. "Ms Daniels, I can't help you if you don't help me."

"I-I don't remem-remember." I lied through my close to chattering teeth. I sat on my hands to stop from fidgeting. "I-I can't tell-tell you what I don't know."

Crap. Crap. Crap.

"Very well. It says here that you are not registered as a resident of the Citadel." He stopped briefly to let his words sink in. My heart kicked up, pounding against my chest. "And neither do you have the right papers that grants you the rights to be permitted on, or find work on this station. Do you have any explanations regarding this?"

I leaned back against the vertical surface of my chair. Shit. Shit. Shit. This is bad. This is really bad.

"Heh. Would you believe me if I said this entire universe is a video game and I may have accidentally dimension jumped here?" I gave a dry smile at the look on his face. He thinks I'm being sarcastic. I grew quiet, fidgeting from the sheer piercing of his gaze. "Yeah. Didn't think so."

I wish humorous Garrus was making an appearance. Serious-job-interrogation Garrus is intimidating to all hell. Maybe it's his stare. He had a way with scary expressions, despite being a different species.

"I'm afraid your humor does you no credit here Ms Daniels." He leaned forward, his natural turian predatory features boring down on me. He knows I'm stalling. My breath hitched, I dug my nails into my skin to stop me from moving away. "How did you get on the Citadel? Any names?"

I crossed my leg, trying not to let it bounce. It was a nervous habit. "I told you, I don't remember."

What am I gonna do? Shit. This is bad.

"I'm afraid that will not help your situation here, the Citadel has very strict immigration rules. If you are unable to explain this 'discrepancy' in your records and clear it, C-Sec will have no choice but to press the charges of illegal immigration." He explained it clearly. Fuck. "Cooperate, and the court may be lenient, then you will be handed off to the Alliance for immediate deportation. Or, worst case scenario if the jury decides to make you an example, you will face a mandatory prison sentence of three years, then you will be handed off to the Alliance for deportation."

I gritted my teeth. I'm in a damn big pickle here. I don't even like pickles. Who the hell likes pickles? Pickles are gross looking and taste horrible. Only people with no souls eat pickles...

Getting a little off topic, Nell.

"Alright." I cleared my throat. Maybe if I twist the truth a bit… I mean, I don't have to admit that I'm from a different dimension. "I'm sorry, I just…" I shakily exhaled and raked a hand through my hair. "Truth be told, I… really don't know. The last thing I remember was walking around-"

There was a slight ping on his datapad, and whatever that was on it caused Garrus to frown, then look back up at me with what that looked to be suspicion, with barely concealed annoyance just beneath it.

Saved by the datapad.

I felt my heart skip a beat at his stare. "Is there a problem, officer?"

He frowned, or what I believed to be a frown, a talon tapping against the table. Hard enough that I could see the scratches left behind on its surface. "Apologies Ms Daniels. There's… been a new development, now your records show that you have a place of residence in the Silver Lotus Estates, and a history of narcolepsy, which you received treatment for a couple years back."

"What?" I blurted at the confusing news, but quickly cleared my throat and sat up. Just go with it. "Uh- right!" I slapped my head dramatically. "Yep. That. Heh! Slipped my mind. I'm such a dits!"

Just act casual you moron.

He still looked very skeptical. Didn't blame him, I definitely knew those reports weren't real. I never suffered with narcolepsy in my entire life. There was a small case of sleepwalking when I was younger- but I somehow doubted it would help in this scenario. "Looks like the treatment didn't work out well." He stood up, talons tightly wrapped around the datapad. "Apologies for the trouble Ms Daniels. You may go."

I just sat there for a minute, staring at him. He returned the gesture. I quickly nodded and stood up, offering out my hand like an idiot. "Right! Um, nice meeting you, sorry about the circumstances! Vakarian, was it?"

"Its Officer Vakarian, human." He leaned in slightly. "And I'll have my eye on you." He whispered in a lower, much more dangerous tone. The one he reserves when he's intensely focused on a task in the game.

"Uh-huh!" I awkwardly took my hand back before he could bite it off. "I should be off! Probably left the oven on- or my hair straightners-" I didn't even own hair straighteners. I was just rambling now. "Probably forgot to feed my dog- anywho- chao!"

Christ. Just go you stupid girl.

I felt his talon wrap around my wrist, stopping my escape. His blue eyes peered down at me, narrowing. "Mammary pets are very illegal on the Citadel, Ms Daniels."

I let out a forced laugh. "Did I say dog? As in real dog? Silly me- I meant- uh, my digital pet! You know, like those adorable little Nintendogs? The ones parents give to their kids in preparation before giving them a real one so they know how to be responsible but it doesn't really match up to the responsibility to a real life animal- you know what, I'm gonna shut up now."

The longer I stayed, the more I seemed to make a fool out of myself in front of one of my favorite video game characters. When I was nervous, I tended to ramble. And boy- was I rambling.

I could almost feel him itching to have me tossed back into a cell. "You, are free to leave, Daniels."

"Okay." I meekly nodded. His talon released my arm and I turned on my heel, zipping out of his line of sight before he kills me.

When I got around the wall, I collapsed against it, letting out a heavy breath.

Holy shit.

I just got interrogated by Garrus Vakarian.

If this is a dream, this is a good dream.

If it isn't... this is bad.

When I realized odd looks were directed at me, I lowered my head and headed out of C-sec.


	2. Chapter 2

This was weird.

I mean, the entire situation was more than weird, but this particular subject matter was also incredibly, inexplicably odd.

There was an orange glow coming off the device as I held it in my hands, staring down at the holographic screen. The man peered over his desk, giving me a look that suggested he thought I was mad just standing there gazing down at the omni-tool as if I had never seen one before. To be fair, I had in game. I had seen some props in ComicCon around that time in May. But it had never become an available option where I could hold one. A real one.

It was even more baffling, to hear why I had this.

"Your boyfriend dropped it off earlier, said you left it at his apartment."

Boyfriend.

What in the duck of ducking duckery.

I was single. Sworn to never go into a relationship. Too much mess. Too much drama. Too much heartache.

I didn't need one.

I didn't want one.

More importantly-

I didn't have one.

"Thanks?" I sounded uncertain even to myself. The man gave a nod of acknowledgement, before then handing me something else.

I blinked in surprise at the sight of my purple and blue framed glasses in his grasp. I had actually forgotten about them, considering the circumstances. People would probably glance and stare, due to the fact if anyone had sight problems they'd fix it with any futuristic eye laser surgery they had. I chose to pocket them. I couldn't wear them outside for fear of suspicion- which sucked. I preferred looking at the world in HD, I supposed I would have to brave eye surgery at some point.

I wasn't blind, if I didn't wear them, I could still see. But I was short sighted. Anything in the distance was a little blurry, like an out of focused camera. I couldn't make out the finer details in faces until they were a few feet away from me. With my specs, it sharpened to HD.

Stepping back, I focused my attention toward my new omni-tool.

I sort of stared at it like it was going to burn me or spontaneously explode.

How do I… use it?

I didn't want to ask the man, fear of looking stupid, and just quickly hurried along where I believed the exit to be, hesitating slightly before stepping out of the precinct, half afraid of what was awaiting me outside. I didn't even know where am was supposed to go, or where my 'home' was.

I was even more befuddled on the subject of how I got out of the interrogation. Did someone help me? Why the hell was there evidence of my existence? Why was I registered? Was this just a very vivid dream after all and I did that out of sheer panic? Did I manifest those files in my dream state?

Just as an ache begun to throb in the side of my skull, my omni-tool suddenly pinged.

Feeling a frown crease on my forehead, I brought up the omni-tool and looked across, around and underneath it until I could figure out how to 'turn it on' and it brought up a menu. 1 new message flashed on my screen. With a small amount of hesitance, I tapped it.

"Go to the elevator. Press down."

My breath sharply faltered, organ in my chest lunging to my throat. What in the hell…?

I stood there for a good five minute whilst vacantly staring down at the orange holographic device, trying to decipher how to reply back before realising I couldn't. It was a closed conversation.

There was another ping.

"Leap of faith. You're not alone here."

That was all it said.

Even as I waited for another response by my blank expression and just uselessly standing there. There was nothing. I found myself casting my eyes up at the ceiling, trying to find a camera or something where this person could be spying on me. But found nothing.

Again, I express- what the ducking duck of all the quacking duckery.

Another ping.

"You can start by leaving the precinct."

Clenching my jaw, I shakily edged forward, the sliding doors parting before me to reveal another set of doors. Reluctance to blindly trust this person messaging me weighed heavily on my feet like anchors, stopping me from shuffling further. Okay. It's as easy as pie. Just keep going.

But what if…

Fuck.

This guy (or woman) could be some insane serial killer or something but it wasn't like I had another choice. I didn't know where to go, what to do- this could lead to some fucking answers.

I forced myself to step forward.

The second set of doors parted before me, and my jaw dropped.

Beyond the double doors was a skyline of light, holographic billboards on every corner, every skyscraper, some even soaring in the skies above the air traffic, shilling whatever alien product they were trying to advertise. Seemingly chromed walls, color hued lights coming out from buildings with tinted windows of every spectrum, red, blue… I stood, jaw dropped, head swivelling about as I tried to take it all in at once.

It was, literally, a city of light.

Whoa.

Almost reluctantly, I took a step.

There was another ping. My eyes trailed across the screen.

"Silver Lotus Estates. Check the map."

Map?

Like it said, there was some sort of GPS system. After fumbling for about ten minutes I managed to find it and get it up, trying to silence the questions building up rapidly in my mind. Who the hell was this guy? Why was I here? How was I here? Why Mass Effect of all things? Did this guy put me here somehow?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

I looked down, tearing my eyes away from the sight, finding myself in the main parking lot for the… air cars? A few of what looked to be C-Sec squad cars sat in their spots, cold and silent, void of passengers, waiting to be used. Beyond, the streets, weren't as packed as I had expected.

Is this even a street?

I wasn't used to seeing a street with no cars driving on it, since they were all high up and flying about. Last time I was outside, I was on the Presidium, now I'm in one of the Wards. Should've paid more attention to my cellmate earlier, because I remotely remember her telling me which ward I was in.

I had started walking, putting some distance between me and the precinct. There was a multitude of aliens just walking about going on their business, ranging from turians, scarier looking than Garrus himself to asari wearing what that looked to be like their version of business suits, which was baring the sides of their torso while covering everything else. Fast walking salarians to lumbering elcors, waddling volus' and hanars… I had no idea how to describe the way they were moving. The odd human here and there…

The sidewalk I was on happened to be a raised pathway. Below, I could see more movement, what looked like an cafe on the other side, a krogan of all things, sitting at a table chatting amicably with an asari as if it were any other normal day.

And holy shit, even from this distance, that krogan looked imposing. Just the sheer amount of muscles in its arms, it-he looked like he could easily snap someone's neck with just a simple backhand. Maybe tear it right off.

Not a good mental image I needed right now.

Figuring that my quick developing habit of staring, staring and staring wasn't going to help me right now, I managed to force myself to look away and follow the instructions on the map provided by the omni-tool.

Woah.

I felt small.

I felt very tiny standing timidly in front of this tall ass apartment building. It rose smoothly straight into the air, towering over me at a rather impressive feet and had a hue of blue light glinting off it.

"Room 47."

Right.

My stomach coiled uneasily as I slowly eased myself into the building. There was no receptionist, so I just headed toward the elevator after waiting around for a few minutes. Eventually it hissed open and I stepped out into the corridor, scanning the door numbers. I blanked the moaning from one apartment, averting my eyes with a tinge of heat boiling underneath my skin. Well then.

45… Red lock.

46… Red lock.

47… Red lock?

I stopped in front of the door and held my breath. Everything stayed still. There was no noise. There was no nothing. Just the crimson holographic circular light smack dab in the middle of the closed entrance.

In the blink of an eye- it switched green.

Overwhelmed with a sense of emotions that pushed pressure down on my lungs, I rose my hand to open the door. I let out a timid yelp when it hissed open and stumbled back for a minute. After the revelation that I was being stupid I edged myself into the apartment, ready to charge the person that dragged me around the Citadel wards and- possibly the person who placed me here.

The apartment was big-or at least it seemed big to me. It was probably small or medium sized to the mundane human or resident of the Citadel. There was a view of the streets over by the side with wooden flooring that stretched out. A small kitchen by the right of the entrance, situated on a slightly higher platform with a step.

There was a TV by the long glass plane which revealed the outside, along with a coffee table and navy sofa. It didn't look like mine at home, which was squishy and had a bunch of pillows chucked onto it- no. This one was L shaped, sleek and looked purely for decoration rather than comfort.

The TV was decently sized and most likely considered small to the norm here, probably 37 inch and almost comparable to the flatscreens back home. It was mounted on the metallic, futuristic wall and thinner than I could've thought possible. I spotted a square screen by the kitchen, most likely a control panel to handle the lighting of the apartment. Gazing around at the room, I jolted when the was another hiss before concluding it was the front door behind me. I turned back around, feeling incredibly small due to the high, arched ceiling.

"Dude." I mumbled to myself, reaching up to my head as I tilted it back to get a good look.

Dude indeed.

"Nice isn't it?"

I screamed at the unwelcome voice from nowhere, whirling around to face the intruder. Fingers wrapped around my small wrists to stop me from falling. I thrashed against the stranger and cursed up a storm- throwing something about a melon bitch-fucker in their face, trying to punch and kick them into letting me go.

"H-hey now, whoa! Oww- I mean no harm!"

I faltered, gasping for air and moving my wide eyes up to the source of the voice. A salarian, looked just like one of the many that I had already seen on my way here but this was the first I've seen up close. Huge, shiny black eyes met mine. Pale, almost aqua or turquoise colored skin. Smooth too, like a baby lizard or something akin to that. Did that mean he was young?

After it was evident I had calmed down, he released me. I quickly put some distance between us, holding a hand to my chest to stop my heart from beating out of my ribcage. I reached behind me frantically, bracing myself against the window, leaning my head against the cool, solid glass to soothe myself. A very loud hammering pounded in my ears, blood rushing through my veins with adrenaline.

"Sorry," he quickly said, words spilling from his mouth in a torrent. "Should've said something or made some indication of my presence. Name's Rannadrill Sapkowski Ohip Duzon Laestarth Laben."

"Ranna-what?" I didn't even attempt to repeat what he just spewed. The messages from the omni-tool flashed in my eyes. "Did you bring me here?"

The breathless, accusatory demand widened his dark eyes a fraction, making them seem bigger than what they supposedly were. A pretty impressive feat itself considering that his eyes were already pretty damn huge to begin with, just like the rest of his kind. Come to think of it, I swear his eyes were at least four- no, at least five times the size of mine. Holy shit.

"Erm, pardon? Bring you here? I'm afraid I don't exactly follow what you mean- wait, are you in trouble? One second, it'll just take a moment to dial C-Sec-"

I quickly stop him as his omni-tool turns on. "No! That uh- that won't be necessary." He isn't the guy. Either that, or he was pretending to be oblivious. "You just…" I swiftly changed topic. "Do you live here?"

His big eyes blinked at me. "Why yes, and you are? I do believe it's important that I know the proper way to address you if we're to live together as housemates for some time."

Live together?

What?

"Sorry, what?" I echoed my thoughts aloud, doing a double take.

"Housemates. Living together." He repeated, then tilted his head to the side slightly. "Oh, apologises- did my translator glitch? Do humans call it something else? Are you not the… tenant?"

I pressed my lips together, brain scrambled in this development. Living together? Did the mystery man who sent me here also give me residence?

How polite, I dryly thought to myself whilst suppressing a sour scowl. Also wondering why on earth he'd give me a roommate. Did he assume I wouldn't be able to afford this by myself? Did he or she not realise that it would probably be harder to conceal my identity whilst living with an alien. A salarian, who was staring at me like I was crazy- and was most likely right.

At this point I was struggling to keep both oars in the water.

In other words; I was losing it.

Whilst the concept of living with an alien was fascinating and I should've probably taken the opportunity, it made me think about the rent. How would I pay for it? I didn't have a job.

It made me curious.

"Did I pay in advance? I… can't remember." I couldn't think of an excuse other than weak memory. It was more logical than some dude sent me here, I have no job and no current income to pay rent. "Sorry, my memory is that of a goldfish right now."

"Yes, a month in advance. You don't… remember? You didn't mention your amnesiac tendencies in the application…" As far as I could tell, he looked contemplative. Putting a hand up to his chin and stroking it. "Is this a common issue?"

"It won't be an issue!" I quickly tried to salvage the situation, pushing myself off the glass window and clearing my throat. "Sorry, you ...startled me so I'm not thinking clearly- I'm Penelope Daniels, but I'd appreciate it if you just called me Nell." I extended a hand to him with a small smile, trying not to quiver underneath his surveying, eerie big eyes.

Dude this is so trippy.

I sincerely hoped I wouldn't start seeing flying pigs or a familiar blonde super saiyan doing the Macarena out of the blue. If I was seeing video game aliens, it was more than likely that magical beings or cartoon characters would begin jumping jacks around my head.

He stared down at my palm in puzzlement for what amounted to a fraction of a second before quickly correcting himself. Right, Salarians. "Ah yes, the human handshake. Read about it much, is this how you do it?" He placed both his hands around mine and shook it enthusiastically, head bowed slightly in a strangely Japanese, polite manner. Or at least I thought it was Japanese.

Either he had watched too much anime or he was reading the wrong research based on my cultural background. I was white- and from England at that, the most polite thing we did was hold the door open. Depending on where you were from- if you were from Hackney or Ilford the most friendly greeting you'd get is a knife to the gut out or a glare, or so I heard from my friends that lived there. It wasn't the fairy tale, glittery place other countries made Britain out to be.

If you shook someone's hand like this poor little salarian was doing, you'd most likely get asked if you wanna get stabbed or if you were on some fucking drug.

His touch was odd and took some getting used to by how real it felt. I couldn't help the short burst of a giggle that escaped me, which was almost hysterical. "Yes, that's how you do it." I tried to recall his name. "Sorry, um, would you mind telling me your name again? It's longer than I'm used to, humans don't tend to have… so many names."

"Oh right, it's Rannadrill Sapkowski Ohip Duzon Laestarth Laben." For a moment I despaired at the thought of having to remember that for the next few weeks. "But I suppose you could just call me Laben, it's my given name and the rest… well doubt you'll be very interested to know about colonies that even we barely know about."

Relief spread through me. Oh thank god. "It's nice to meet you Laben- and it'll be fascinating to know, but just… let me settle in first, yes?"

"Of course, of course!" He bowed his head again, still slightly arched over in his sign of respect. My heart raced. My third or so proper interaction with an alien. This is… enthralling. "If you follow me, I'll show you around. There isn't much, but I find that it is suitable to my needs. I read up on human customs to research about your species living space and moved a few things, you should find it to your satisfaction."

In an attempt to keep a grip on reality, I pocketed my hands and curled my nails around the denim of my jeans. "Thank you, Laben. I appreciate it."

"I look forward to living with you." He bowed again, I was about to assure him he didn't need to be so formal but he whizzed off faster than I could blink. I stood there for a minute, allowing all of this to sink in- then his head popped out from behind the doorframe, what I assumed was confusion twisted on his alien features. "I apologize, was I not clear in my instructions?"

"Sorry Laben, I'll be right with you, I'm just…" I weakly gestured with my arms to my surroundings. "Taking it all in."

His eyes observed me- and I felt uncomfortable underneath his scrutinising. Then something seemed to click in his brain. "Oh yes, humans have slower capacity in their reactions. I apologize in hurrying you along, but I must be leaving for work soon."

If it were anyone else I would have felt insulted at him calling me slow but knew salarians were naturally quicker and let it slide. I filled my air with lungs, releasing a soft sigh before shuffling over to the impatient salarian.

He glided around the apartment with practised ease, which had me nearly increasing my pace to a light jog to stay caught up with him. The bathroom was small, but to my relief it had a shower instead of a bath. I supposed it suited to the salarian, being more hasty they'd probably not like baths. Not that I was complaining, my preference was a shower.

The kitchen, I had already seen, but I played along to his tour guide. Keeping a keen ear out when he was explaining to not touch certain foods unless I wanted a quick trip to the clinic, but then zoning out of the conversation when he droned on for too long about how well the fridge worked.

He lead me to his room, instructing me to knock before entering and wait for him to say it was alright for me to come in. Then he guided me to my own room, explaining a few mundane things to me outside it. To not make too much noise at noise when he was home off work because he liked to sleep. To tidy up after myself. If I cook or order takeaway, activate the Scentiser which apparently was turned on by the control panel and got rid of stenches in the house. Standard rules, pretty much.

"Sorry to leave you," his eyes darted to the holographic clock mounted on the wall nearby. It was evening. Right. He mentioned in his ramblings that he worked at the clinic. "But if I don't leave now I may be running late. Lock the door behind me, I have a key."

Before I could nod or even blink he dashed out of the apartment, leaving me standing there in befuddlement. Everything slowly clicked.

I was on the Citadel.

I was on the Citadel.

I was on the Citadel.

I was on the Citadel. I got arrested. Met Garrus Vakarian- Garrus fucking Vakarian. A mystery stranger lead me to this apartment and now I was living with a salarian.

I collapsed to the floor, harshly stinging my knees. My blurred vision was cast to the window, gazing out at the Presidium in shock as my mind finally processed the gravity of my new reality. My hand drifted softly to the side of my throbbing head and I suppressed a groan scratching its way up my throat. Tears rolled down my face, dropping onto my lap and dampening the denim.

A long, sigh full of dread emitted from me. My voice cracked, betraying any restraint that I managed to build. My own overwhelming exploding of feelings knocking the air out of my lungs, invisible hands thrusting into my gut to wretch my insides. "Fuck me sideways and throw my sister in the canal…"

I was stuck here.

This wasn't a prank. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a delusion in some coma. My coffee hadn't been spiked. I wasn't on acid. I wasn't on any sort of drug.

I was stuck, in an alternate dimension. In a fictional place that shouldn't even exist- because it was fictional. I didn't belong here- this shouldn't be possible at all. I didn't know why. I didn't know how. I didn't even care.

I wanted to go home.

My wailing shivered right through me, sending a quaking shudder down my spine. A quiet sob ripped from me and I put my hands over my mouth, muffled crying forced into my palms. Once I started, I couldn't stop. An intense feeling of dark forlorn seized me with a tight, suffocating, grasp.

It squashed me down, a loaded weight pushing down my shoulders and squeezing my lungs with a firm grip. My eyes couldn't stop pouring with tears that fell down my cheeks like Niagra falls.

I was here.

I was here.

I was here.

Joining the harsh grieving sorrow in my heart, a deep longing for those I loved and my home hit me with full force. I was gone. They were gone. We were separated indefinitely. I would've given anything in that moment of time to get them back. To get my life back.

It wasn't much. I was just finishing college with no idea what to do, in that point of my age to constantly question with doubt if I was good enough, if I would make it and what the hell I was going to do with my life.

It seemed pitiful, to think how ungrateful I was. That I thought it was small. I didn't treasure my family or my friends nearly as much as I should have, I should've hugged and kissed everyone of them and told them how much I just loved them. I thought my small life wasn't much or going anywhere.

But it was mine.

And it was viciously torn out of my hands.

Right now, I'd do anything to get that back.

After what seemed like hours had passed with me sobbing out my hearts content on the ground, I let out a small, wavering sigh and pressed my hands flat against the cool floor, struggling to my feet.

I had my mental breakdown.

But now it was time to figure out what the actual fuck to do.

Of course I care how I got here- and why.

Alas, the first thing I needed to sort out was how I was going to stay alive.

The rent was mysteriously paid out in advance, by whom I didn't know or care to find out at that moment in time. But I had a month to get a job or acquire skills to get said job so I could continue living here.

I was given a chance to live here. I was alone more than ever. Isolated from any aid other than the mysterious stranger that I couldn't contact. He or she probably wouldn't pay my rent forever or my living expenses.

I somehow severely doubted that my art skills would come in handy here. It was more than likely that my art was "out of date" in this era. Artists here were no doubt better, more improved, had more techniques, more practised. Not to mention more time to have experience. Humans lived a little longer in the future- and aliens lived much, much older years. Far surpassing us in age and experience.

I worked behind the till a few times, but the process could be more complicated- though they'd probably teach me in training- or did they not do that here? Surely they did?

No point standing around wondering, I decided, letting out a long sigh as I turned to leave. Only one way to find out after all.

Unfortunately, as I quickly discover, whoever dumped me here saw no need to fabricate for me qualifications of any kind for me to use as reference whilst job hunting. Or even the decency to make a copy of the one I used back home.

"Fuck." I hissed between my teeth, raking a stressed hand through my hair as the door closed behind me. I could still hear the Turian's condescending words in my ears, like it's taunting me. Not that the one before that had gone any better. That Asari was a bitch. Bastard.

Dejectedly, I pulled up the omni-tool, staring at the Citadel job central extranet page. Not like I had many options to begin with, given my obvious lack of academic qualifications to begin with. Or reference.

Even the simple ones that didn't require qualifications, like a barista or storefront assistants proved to be a problem. I quickly figured out after my fifth application that unless I had my skin painted blue and surgically grafted some tentacle crests to the back of my head, it was highly unlikely that I'll find employment in those areas. Made sense though, who wouldn't want an asari manning the front? After all they were considered to be universally attractive and appealing to almost all species out there.

I mean, come on, even salarians find themselves attracted to them.

And of course, there's the less than ideal options. But there's no way I'm even considering looking those up just yet. I didn't want to get on stage and have men and aliens alike staring at me with lewd expressions, grabby hands and they'd most likely only hire asari's anyway.

I'm not that desperate.

Yet, my treacherous mind whispered.

I spent all night peering at the orange screen until my eyes stung and a throb hammered away at the back of my skull. Wiping my hand across my face, I sighed in exhaustion and leaned back against the chair. There must be something that I can do.

My eyes drifted around the apartment for a break, noting that the salarian- Laben, was rather tidy. The sofa was picked clean of any dust bunnies, windows blindingly polished with not a spec of dirt, the tv unblemished with any fingerprints. The floor was absolutely spotless. I could picture him zipping around the rooms like a hamster on coffee, obsessively scrubbing like he was possessed. He seemed like a very neat alien. He kind of reminded me of my nan, who didn't favour slobs- which I kinda was. But if I wanted to keep my first apartment, I had to keep everything clean.

Something clicked in my brain.

Cleaning.

Eagerly, I sat up and started to search for job applications for a cleaner. Janitor. Anything to do with cleaning. It wasn't the most graceful or elegant job- but it paid. After searching and searching and searching, I stopped on one particular cleaning job. My eyes widened a fraction.

It paid well.

Somewhat. As well as it could get for being a janitor anyway.

An hour or two probably passed during the time I had sent out my CV to multiple companies, then the door hissed open. One singular glance at the entrance revealed a familiar salarian- who seemed surprised I was still up. Well, it was early in the morning.

"Hey Laben, how was work?" 

"Uneventful thankfully," he blinked rapidly, then started towards the kitchen. "And you? How's yours? What do you work as anyway, never occurred to me to ask earlier."

"Uh..." I scratched my cheek, averting my eyes. After a small moment of inner turmoil, I decided to be honest. "I'm looking for work currently. But I sent out a billion applications today- that's why I'm still up. I haven't stopped since you left."

"A billio-" he started but recovered quickly from his surprise. A Salarian thing probably, must be nice. Minus the forty year shot lifespan that is. "Really? Impressive."

By his reaction, his probably didn't understand the concept of human exaggeration. Although it felt like it. I licked my bottom lip nervously and turned back to my omni-tool, swiftly changing the topic. "So, I know this is probably very cheeky to ask but would you mind paying to get me a takeaway? I'll pay you back later, I haven't eaten all day and my funds haven't come in."

I felt like a freeloader, but what choice did I have? I had no credits. I was hungry. If I got the job interview, then succeeded in getting the job and worked on an empty stomach I didn't want to faint whilst cleaning out a toilet. I couldn't remember the last time I ate, not even at home. 

"Hmm," he pulled out something from the cabinet frowning slightly. "Is the food not to your liking? Tried to get something that's edible for both our species. But sure, I'll see what I can find, just try not to make a habit out of it." 

I looked into the cabinet earlier- all the food he got was weird looking things and I had no idea if it was even remotely edible. 

He was a sweetheart, I swear to god. 

"Thank you Laben," I wanted to hug him, but didn't want to push boundaries and make him uncomfortable. "Seriously, thank you so much- I promise that I'll pay you back." 

"Don't mention it." He opened up his omni-tool, and I had a short conversation with him about pizza before he sent for it to be delivered. Meatfeast, BBQ base. Dough balls with garlic butter.

I officially loved Laben.


	3. Chapter 3

***Finger guns* Pew, pew, hey guys, sorry about that hiatus. We're back!**

* * *

Day 2

* * *

I was still here.

The odd machine whirred to life, growling and bubbling. I tapped my finger on the marble counter whilst I waited, eyes cast to the window to observe the ant like moving creatures below that the apartment overlooked. The streets below looked bustling and full of life as usual. No cars, those were above me, zipping across the skyline five stories above the one I'm on. Strange how orderly they looked too, moving as though they were in proper traffic lanes even though I couldn't see any. Guess that's another sight to get used to. And what about cabs? How exactly did one hail them if the skycars were all high above?

I had to wonder, since there wasn't a day night cycle in the wards unlike the Presidium, was there actually a 'nighttime' here? Was everything open 24/7 or they just close up after a certain time? And what about pubs and bars?

It was the next day. My isolation in a fictional universe. I woke up in my new bed after barely being able to catch a little shut eye. The first thing I wanted other than to cry myself into a much needed nap was something I didn't usually have commonly at home. A coffee. It was salarian made, but a quick search in this world's equivalent to google it assured me that the human body could take it.

Although, it warned quite a kick.

I also checked online for the food that I remembered Laben had stored in the cabinets for me as a welcome gift to make sure I felt at home. Some of it seemed inedible, but other parts were salvageable to make breakfast and a few days of lunch. I also noted the few pots of instant noodles with a small, wistful smile.

My mum wouldn't want me eating that crap, as she so told me when I used to practically live on the stuff. Now, I may have to. Even the food here wasn't cheap, it agonised me to learn. I needed a job- and I needed it now.

I couldn't concentrate on the negative side of things. If I didn't want to have a mental break down again, I had to focus on staying alive rather than that fact I could possibly starve to death or be kicked out onto the streets because I couldn't pay rent.

Positive, I reminded myself when pessimistic thoughts started to fog my mind. My fingers anxiously curled for a moment- and I had to step away from the counter. My lungs filled completely before I released a slow, wavering breath. My eyes stung. A lump forming in my throat as the stress of my dire circumstances began to grip me.

I can do this.

Determination sparked in my veins, just as the coffee was done being prepared.

I can do this. I repeated, then looked down at the weird hot beverage I manage to produce. It was an odd smell, black with a swirling green almost hypnotising me. I ripped the sachet of sugar by the side and dumped it in before cupping both hands around it- also making sure that my long sleeves were peeled over my palms to cover the mug so I didn't burn myself.

A warm steam danced above the coffee, brushing against my face. I felt my nose wrinkle slightly at the odor that the drink gave off. It was bitter, with a twinge of something unfathomable. I wisely decided that maybe I should wait for it to cool down, not wanting to scorch off my tastebuds.

Reaching over, I picked up the remote for the TV and gnawed on the inside of my cheek, figuring out how to switch it on. The screen flickered to life and instantly by the format of the asari behind the desk and monotonous voice, I realised it was a news report.

"... as tensions continue to rise. The System Alliance however, claims no responsibility or involvement in regards to the actions of 'independent privateers' despite the recent leaks connecting them to the still relatively unknown 'Corsairs'. Caellus Meltis, Hierarchy's official of Foreign Affairs however, condemned the Alliance of recklessness, and suggests 'cooperation and increased dialogue' with the Hegemony and the Terminus States instead of needlessly provoking conflict with their neighbours."

Despite being new to this universe, I couldn't help but stifle a laugh, picturing a Turian doing air quotes as he made that statement and pointedly ignoring the incensed glares from the Alliance officials at his 'suggestion'. Increased cooperation and dialogue between the Alliance, Batarian Hegemony and Terminus warlords? Just as likely as convincing a Qurian to sit at a same table as a Geth without blowing the machine's head off with a shotgun.

"Closer to home, investigations continue in the Bachjret Ward in regards to the mutilated bodies found behind the Borsodi Education Centre three days ago. C-Sec..."

I zoned out and opened up the omni-tool that I had adopted as my own and checked any emails I may have gotten, blinking when I saw that I had in fact received responses to the job applications already. I wasn't genuinely expecting a reply that fast. Lines creased on my face, worried that due to my CV being just that terrible- they felt disgraced.

My heart sunk when I saw all the declining and the rejections, head sinking on the table. I laid my arms out on the surface, chin placed on top of them, and let out a dragging sigh. Not even one. Most of the applications I requested and sent out were all pushed back into my face, might as well having been stamped with an informal frown emoticon I recalled my generation being obsessed with.

No one accepted.

This news was depressing and hammered an acidic nail into my hopes, slowly eating away at the limited happiness I forced myself to form as soon as my eyes snapped open this morning. It took a minute for me to keep it together, to hold back and suppress any waterworks that wanted to spill out.

At this rate, I'm just going to get kicked out, starve to death or end up working at a strip club.

No matter how hard I pushed the idea that I would sort this all out- heavily pressuring the concept that everything would be okay in the end because it always did end up alright. I usually always had help from friends or a family member.

Here; I was alone.

No help.

I was an isolated dependant person who was being involuntary thrown in the deep end of a life filled with absolute independence.

I had never felt more lonely in my entire life.

My arms wrapped around my own torso in a meek attempt to stop the growing despondent, dark stormcloud from engulfing me. An intense longing for my uncle many would have considered childish wretched in my chest, tightening until I almost couldn't breathe. I needed him so desperately. I felt so lost, so hopeless. He always told me what to do- how to survive. He was an uncle, a father, a brother and a friend to me. I looked up to him.

He seemed a millennia away, blocked off by the stubborn wall of alternate dimensional time travel.

A light ping shook me out of my sombre reverie of melancholy.

Loading up my omni-tool, I prepared myself for more disappointment and squinted at the email, as if it would stop me from seeing the sad, depressing letter of spurning.

I nearly fainted with joy.

I was wanted for an interview, later in the evening.

As I read on, my jaw practically unhinged and clattered to the ground in an almost comical manner. My eyes slowly widened into a gawking stupor, gaze locked stiffly to the words. Re-reading. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know if I could.

Chora's Den.

It was a cleaners role, for late hours.

But it was Chora's Den.

Fist. Exotic, sexual dancers. Hand-sy patrons that almost stuck their money down the ladies throats. Pretty much a strip club.

I was about to shut the email immediately because I refused to be that desperate, that demoralised.

However- my hand faltered. I stared with reluctance at the words that echoed in my skull, the same way a howl in a cave would bounce off the walls, reverberating around my bones. If I was honest with myself- I was distraught.

I didn't want to lower myself to such ...extremities as working in a strip club or surround myself with things like that. My grandmother would greatly object, my uncle would be ashamed to be related to me.

What choice do I have, at this point?

Besides… I wasn't up there dancing- I was cleaning.

Deep in my heart, I hoped I was making the right decision.

I wrote a response, wondering if I sounded too eager- then pressed send.

I heard the door open behind me, and didn't have to turn around to know it was Laben, due to his light steps and voice that followed, "Four hours, interesting."

His random calculations caused my forehead to crease. I thought Mordin was the only type of salarian to come out of nowhere with odd mumblings and ramblings. "Erm, sorry?"

"You slept for four hours and thirty five minutes," he said, quickly moving over to the kitchen for what I assumed was either, a, coffee. Or b, breakfast. "Read somewhere that humans on average sleep eight hours for every twenty four.

It was strange he monitored my sleeping schedule, and at first made me a little uncomfortable but I shook it off, knowing he wasn't exactly… normal. Or creeping on me.

"Eh, I had a lot on my mind." I muttered, bringing the coffee up to my lips with caution. "Where did you get this coffee?"

He took out a plate from the lower cabinet before peering over at me. "It's not coffee, it's psychoactive drug stimulants. Got it from a nearby mart, wouldn't recommend it though. It's very potent compared to the ones prefered by other species. May cause restlessness, anxiety, insomnia, increased urination, gastrointestinal disturbance, or even mania, lapses of judgement, disorientation, disinhibition, hallucinations and psychosis if you are unlucky. Worse case scenario rhabdomyolysis, but that is very extreme."

I coughed, spitting the syrup substance out of my mouth and into the mug. My features twisted into a deep grimace at the taste. It was very sour. "You know what, maybe I'll just have some water."

"Yes, excellent idea." He offhandedly poured me a cup before quickly going back to whatever that he had been doing. I almost envied just how fast he worked, being able to process things that quickly.

The cool liquid washed down my throat, soothing it. Refreshing. "Thanks."

Laben glanced over at the TV. Did they still even call it TVs here? They did change the name of the internet to extranet, wonder what else had changed over the years. "T'soze, she's new. Previous newscaster had to resign after a particularly nasty scandal. Still needed work on her presentation though. While her occupation requires strict professionalism she's too emotionless."

Probably a lot better than that one asshole reporter I remembered punching as Shep in my Renegade campaign. Hell, I couldn't even resist punching her in my Paragon runthrough. She got on my last nerve. I couldn't remember her name.

"Maybe she's nervous or young," Though, asari grew differently (and better) so she could look young but be tenfold my age. I bobbed my shoulders, chewing on my thumbnail as I watched the screen. "Fresh nerves that turn you into a statue and all that, doesn't want to mess up."

"Possible," he simply said. If he were human I suppose he would had gave a shrug along with that.

I chewed on my bottom lip. "When are you leaving for work?"

His bug eyes flickered over to the time on the tv in the corner, spreading something over a venison of meat I had never seen before in my life and a foreign fluffy thing that reminded me of scrambled eggs. "Less than a hour, human standard Greenwich hour."

I had time to kill with nothing to do. I was tempted to stay in and just browse online with my new omni-tool to get used to it- to hide away in my new bedroom so I didn't have to deal with the glancing eyes of people on the Citadel but I needed to get used to the atmosphere and the aliens wandering around freely. Probably wondering what on earth was with my fashion sense.

I needed to get new clothes, but that could wait.

I can't hide forever.

I needed to stretch my legs anyway.

"Would you…" I reached up, rubbing the area between my neck and my shoulder. "Would you mind if I walked with you?"

Laben blinked, then five more times in quick succession. Seconds passed in silence between us as he slowly processed my words. I frowned in worry. While a small pause like that probably seemed normal for others, Laben's a Salarian. A few seconds to us probably equates to almost a full minute for his kind.

Finally he spoke, the words not quite the reply I had been expecting. "Salarians lack sex drive."

His response was certainly poor timing. My eyes watered as I choked viciously on my water that I chose at that exact moment to drink. I spluttered, struggling to breathe. When I calmed down, I gently placed the glass down on the table and looked over at him. My cheeks simmered with a high temperature, eyebrows raised to the stars.

"I-u-y-I-s-w-what?" I stammered in horror, at a loss for words. He thought… he thought I was hitting on him?

He took a step back. "You changed color. Probable increase in bodily temperature a likely cause. Febrile response a common biological occurrence as a result of viral, bacterial or fungal infection. That or arousal. If the latter, would like to repeat that Salarians lack sex drive."

"L-Laben… I… just wanted to walk. You know, stretch my legs." I carefully assured him through my teeth with a hand up as a sign of a metaphorical white flag, forcing the words out in my borderline heart attack. "Genuinely, I-uh, no offense but I'm not really interested."

Were salarians really that oblivious when it came to human interactions?

Another pause, Laben's eyes blinking with such speed that it was almost a pain to keep up with. "You changed color. Biological explanations suggests-"

"I was embarrassed." I cut him off, waving a hand. I still felt the lingering of my warm face. Sheepish. "And surprised. It's called blushing and- I'm an awkward person… look I only want to walk. Geesh, I just met you."

"Humans often change color when embarrassed?"

"It's common, yes." I cleared my throat.

His blinking quickly slowed down. I took that as a sign that he was relieved. "Apologies, colony I was from had little to no xeno visitors. Had little experience with other species."

"We'll work on it," I let out a giggle, unable to fight back the grin on my mouth. "But, to answer my earlier question, would you like to just walk to your workplace? I'm kinda new to the area, wanted to sight see a little."

"Not a problem," he said. "Be ready in thirty minutes."

I licked my bottom lip and glanced down at my clothes. I slept naked due to having no pjs with me and just changed into my clothes in the morning after having a quick shower. It was a nice shower, admittedly. Steaming hot water that I had to fight myself to scramble out of it. There wasn't any shampoo and conditioner but I looked okay enough. Just a little tired.

Shuffling over to the mirror by the front door, I plaited my hair to the side and stretched my arms, releasing a sleepy yawn. I don't have a toothbrush either, god dammit. "Do you have any mints? Gum? Anything… painfully refreshing for the human mouth?"

Needless to say my mind briefly crossed into the gutter and rolled in it before I shook all those thoughts out of my head. Focus.

"Mints? What's that?" Guess that's a no.

I waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm ready to leave when you are."

"Hmm, I guess those human female stereotypes about preparing tediously in an overstretched length of time aren't all true."

Was there a Guide for Humans for Dummies? I put it on my list to look for one later to just… leave it in Laben's room.

The walk to the medical ward was a little awkward at first. Nothing but silence between the two of us. Then I started to ask questions about him, his home, his family, friends, hobbies- anything I could conjure up. He wasn't entirely socially-inept, just a little candid and civil. He asked a little about my own life, that I mentioned I was new here- asked how far away I truly was.

It was a hard answer to form. I almost couldn't get any words out. Instead I just told him I was all the way from earth, that I wanted to be a bit more independent rather than rely on my family all the time. He surprisingly came out that he admired that and thought I was brave- though ruining the moment a little when he emphasised his point that he had no interest in intercourse.

He really wasn't used to humans.

Or women- I think, for that matter.

The rest of the journey there was pleasant as we got to know each other a little, becoming gradually a bit more relaxed. I figured if we were to live together, we might we well talk. We might as well get to know the other's background a tad.

By the time we got to the clinic, he bid me a goodbye and that he'd be home late so not to be alarmed by his lack of presence and if I randomly heard noises early in the morning. I waved him goodbye before sighing and glancing at the time.

I spent the spare time I had wandering around- though not too far. The Citadel was huge- it was gigantic even.

When it was time to go- I could help but feel an icy block of dread crack over my skull, freezing my spine and clenching my gut. Here goes.

Just like I had remembered, Fist had a Krogan bouncer. Unfortunately for me, he took small pleasures in sneering down at me and making me feel very uncomfortable as I waited.

The first thing I had noticed when I stepped into Chora's Den was that the layout of the place was an exact identical copy of what I saw back in the first game. And frankly that's where the similarities ended. For starters, almost no one wore that 'sexy attire' from the games, not a single employee, even the dancers. Thin, sheer and almost see through lingeries seemed to be the standard, along with thongs, stockings, strapless bras and- you get the idea.

In addition the 'dances' were different. No longer was there pixelated characters performing the same gyrating animation over and over. Actual pole dancing was involved here, impressive too considering the strength and flexibility I knew that one had to have in order to utilise up on the stage. The Asari dancers… well, they made full use of their natural biotic talent, allowing them to pull off gravity defying stunts that I was pretty sure made most gymnastics look like a kindergarden class performance. And I went to gymnastics when I was younger, that shit is hard.

Almost made me wonder if wardrobe malfunctions were common around here, because I was pretty certain that some of the things they were doing would had caused a split or two in the fabric.

Not that I paid much attention to the dancers in the first place to notice such minute differences mind you. Nope.

The krogan shifted, his movements quickly drawing my attention to him, taking in every move he made and trying to ignore the irrational part of my brain telling me that big mean alien here was going to bite my head off. Instead, wordlessly, he jabbed a thumb at the door behind him. "Behave yourself," was the only 'advice' he had for me.

What am I gonna do? Assassinate Fist?

The instant my hand touched the door, a sickening revelation wretched in my abdomen. Fuck. I was about to meet Fist. How the hell did this not kick in until now? He was a thug. A criminal. One that was acquainted with the Shadow Broker- and the Shadow Broker was the last person that I wanted to research about the legitimacy of my background.

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

On one hand- I could possibly fail this interview, piss him off, have myself killed and that would be that. On the other, I could get the job, I could earn money, but the Shadow Broker would potentially inform Fist about the lack of evidence to my existence in the universe. I was a ghost. The only form of identity I had was in those datafiles that my mystery guardian had sent into C-Sec. Conveniently when I was about to get arrested for illegal immigration- and making an absolute moron out of myself.

It was just too convenient. But I didn't have time to think about that now. I was standing in front of Fist's office.

But, I thought, I needed this job more than anything.

I had to be incredibly careful. One wrong move- one little mistake and my head could be served up on a platter.

No choice.

It was like I wasn't acting of my own will, feeling like I was watching afar when my hand opened the door and I gradually edged my anchored legs forward into the room.

The sight of another fictional character that I knew from one of my favorite games stood behind his desk whilst pouring a glass of what looked like whiskey. His back was to me, his familiar military dark haircut was almost gimmicky. My heart lunged up into my throat- and for a moment I couldn't move. I was frozen to the entrance, struggling to pump air into my lungs.

Fist.

"Sit," he said, gesturing at the chair with his glass without even turning around. "You drink?"

"A little." I chose to be honest. A little alcohol would probably help the nerves right now. I doubted he planned to poison me. He didn't know me. Why would he plan to poison a girl he didn't even know?

However, I didn't want to drink a lot- god knows I was an incredible light weight.

"Usually people treat that as a rhetorical question, not to mention the taboo of ending up intoxicated during a job interview." My muscles tightened underneath my clothes and I shifted on my feet, ready to make a sprint to the door. Oh shit, I didn't mess up already did I? "Then I catch them drinking a day or two later," he turned around, pulling out another glass. "Want one? Don't worry, I'm not one of those bosses with a stick up my ass. I'm casual, most of the time anyway so long as you do your job."

It was almost startling to see his face. To see the details of his features more prominent and so real. My eyes quickly trailed across his rough face, noting the square facial shape and sharp grey eyes. They surveyed me and he took a step forward, holding out a glass to me which swished with an amber liquid.

"Please." I reached out a hand and carefully took the offered drink, trying to keep my hands from trembling to reveal how anxious I truly was. I also refrained from snatching and downing the entire thing. Sip. Remember, lightweight. Don't wanna fuck up this interview.

I smelt it before I could even drink it. The liquor burst with a strong flavour as soon as it touched my tongue, a slight burn sliding down my throat. I immediately made sure to only take small amounts, struggling not to break the glass from my tense grip. Sitting down on the chair opposite him, I crossed my legs so I didn't bounce them to betray how I felt.

"Thank you." I politely spread my lips into a small, straining smile, he nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Before we start, just a quick question. Any prior experience in bartending or qualifications in accounting?"

I swallowed, wondering if this interview was going down the toilet already. "No. I worked behind a till a few times but quit to focus on my studies at college."

"Damn, any considerations to become a dancer? We have on the job training for that so you don't have to worry about lack of experience. Not to mention the pay is much higher and the tips are generous."

I almost expected to see him giving a lewd grin as he said that but nope. Straight faced and professional. Standard procedure so as to not scare off prospective employees probably.

Even though I knew I was going to reject his offer, I couldn't help but contemplate it for a moment. It was a lot more money. And it was just dancing, it wouldn't be like I was having sex with the customers. But still… even the thought of me dancing on a stage or against a pole put an uneasy feeling in my gut.

My reluctance clearly showed on my face, however, because there was a little bit of disappointment that flashed across his eyes. "Sorry, but, I'm not looking for that position right now."

"What a shame," he sighed. It was almost disturbing to see him this way, not acting like the same Fist that I remembered in the games. I had expected… I didn't even know, but not… this. He seemed almost polite. Guess this was what people meant when they talked about crime lords having their business faces turned on. "Working hours from three to one past midnight and six days per week. Oh, and you'll be also be helping to serve the occasional drink and collecting used glasses every once in a while. No pouring and mixing, so you don't have to worry about it. You get pay of at the end of the month. Can you handle that?"

"Absolutely. My schedule is immensely flexible. Just call me in when you want me." I nodded eagerly. "I can't wait to work, to be honest with you."

"Good, you're hired." He slid me a datapad across the table. I peeled it off the surface, gaze darting between him and the datapad with confusion. "Please fill in the necessary details, sign your name on the contract and then we are done here. Work starts tomorrow, don't be late."

Wait, what?

Employee recruitment here was…definitely different. Faster. Less complicated than I thought it was. "That's…. That's all? No other questions?"

He chuckled at my bewilderment. "Look, I'm hiring a janitor, what kind of questions could I possibly ask?"

"No complaining from me." I quickly collected myself, tapping into the datapad and filling everything out in a slight rush. Basic details. Name. Next of kin. Criminal history-

Oh dear.

I did get arrested. Did that count? Maybe not though, no charges or anything got involved.

Biting my lip, I chose to leave that section blank. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him. It was nothing major anyway- I took a dip in a lake. Which technically wasn't my fault and I didn't get charged. I was written off as narcoleptic who fell in. Even if he found out, it wasn't a crime, really.

I handed it back to him. "Finished."

He nodded his head, taking a quick glance at the details I filled in. "We're done here Ms Daniels, see Akira when you show up tomorrow, she'll fill you in."

"I'll be here punctionally sharp." I vowed, standing up and finishing the whiskey he poured me, blinking a little at the strong taste before almost stumbling out, the world a little wavery and a light buzz whirring in my head.

Cthulhu on a pike stick that was intense.

At least I got the job.

Tomorrow, I started work at Chora's Den.

Jim's Jesus crackers.


	4. Chapter 4

Day 3.

* * *

It was the third day of being trapped on the Citadel in this different universe. So far, I had a job. Luckily. Though it was highly unfortunate it happened to be in a strip club, at least I was a janitor and not one of the actual dancers. I didn't have to resort to that even though I got offered a job as a dancer. I didn't have to turn to that.

Not yet, anyway.

I was kind of broke right now, so I had to get as many working hours as possible so when I did get paid I could afford to keep living with Laben. That meant going overtime, something I'm going to have to get used to. I would probably just barely scrape by considering the high prices on the Citadel. If I stuck to the lower ward markets for food and clothes to get their cheap deals then I should be okay.

At least I had a good few days of food and then another few days of instant noodles. I could stretch that out for a bit, maybe I won't eat for a couple days but that was fine, as long as I got paid at the end of the month. Then I could spend some credits on more clothes to blend in, buy some groceries and then save up for the next rent that weren't paid in advance.

I _can do this._

As soon as the door hissed open and Laben walked through to grab his morning breakfast, I took a sip of my glass of water, thanking the stars that water was free. It was the only free thing on the Citadel with the exception of the public toilets- which were surprisingly clean. Usually any public toilets I went to weren't exactly the most luxurious looking. But then again, that could have just been the places in England.

England wasn't exactly the most clean place.

Maybe it just depended on the locations. Like Chora's Den-

I supposed it was up to me to keep Chora's Den's toilets clean now.

A grimace twisted on my face. _Great_.

Glass empty, I stood, stool shrieking a little against the floor. I winced but ignored it and shuffled over to the sink for a refill. "Hey Laben, early start to work?"

"Replacement hydrogel regrowth vat arriving today, need to supervise installment, check model and familiarize with machine and its updated systems."

"Ah." I nodded, pretending to know what he was going on about. I ran the tap, filling the drink. "Can I walk you to work again? I need to kill some time until my own shift."

His big eyes blinked over at me as he spread the odd green butter essence over the meat. I shut the tap off, taking my glass away. "Sure, company's good. Conversation appropriate destressing mechanism."

I took a sip of my water before nudging my head toward his interesting choice of food. "What are you making?"

"I believe you humans call it a _sandwich_ ," he pushed his plate closer so I could get a better look. "Bread itself is oatmeal, with a layer of crushed tabanidae paste and hemiptera honeydew."

"Nice." I reached over to the basket on the kitchen isle and snatched up a shiny apple.

He looked up in surprise. "Not a word I'd often hear when it comes to traditional salarian dishes."

"I'm interested in other alien culture and food." It wasn't a lie, now that I had access to it, I was very intrigued in learning about even the trivial things. It was probably just boring old history lessons to most of the humans and other species here, but I found it fascinating. Turian markings, salarian colonies, etc.

"Tabanidaes and hemipteras are _invertebrates_."

"Ooooh." I said in revelation. Insects. Though, it was alien insects. They still were insects. Kinda gross. "Maybe that's why other people are… opposed to it. Some humans like insects, but it depends on your culture and what not. Maybe I'll try one time in future, just once. But it doesn't sound very appealing now that you mention it."

There was a crunch as I bit into the crimson fruit, followed by a juicy burst of flavour.

"As we are on the topic of food, a patient of mine mentioned that there's a certain human dish that's prepared in a rather… particular manner." I glance up at him in time to see him place his three-quarters eaten sandwich back onto the plate. _When did that happen?_

"Oh?" I rose an inquisitive eyebrow.

"It involves the capture of a live aviary animal, a songbird if he is to be believed, small one that can fit into a human's fist. Following which its to be fattened two to three times its normal size, then drowned in alcohol before finally being roasted. Consumption involves biting it in a way that its head is decapitated by teeth."

"Uh, not quite. It's not a…it's not great." I grimaced, chewing more pieces of the apple. "Maybe we should have roast chicken instead, you might like that."

"Perhaps, look forward to it." His lips twitched slightly, could've sworn that was a smile. It was hard to tell with Laben, given that his preferred manner of expressing himself was through blinking. Unlike Mordin.

"You should tell me about the colonies on the way to work." I suggested, after swallowing a lump of fruit. I hopped off my chair and tucked it in, I put the half eaten apple in my mouth, holding it with my teeth whilst putting my jacket on.

The last of his sandwich was gone, barely caught him popping it into his mouth. Seemed like Salarians are fast eaters too in addition to all their other many quirks. "Sure! What would you like to know about?"

"Anything! Everything!" I encouraged, walking alongside him toward the front door. It hissed open. "Well, maybe we should start somewhere simple; your names for example, why do salarians have so many?"

"Salarian full names includes the planet of origin, nation, city, district, clan and given names. In my case, Rannadrill Sapkowski Ohip Duzon Laestarth Laben, it means that I'm from the colony of Rannadrill, Sapkowski Peninsula, Ohip Metropolis and Duzon DIstrict. Laestarth is my clan of origin and Laben is my given name." He explained.

"Do other salarians call each other by just their given names or do they call you by your entire full name?" I tilted my head, watching him activate his omnitool and lock the door behind us.

"Salarians call each other by our given names, but when making introductions we give our full names."

"Ahh," It would give me a headache to try to remember all my friends and family if their names were that long. "Uh, another question- you mentioned salarians don't really have ...a sex drive- so how do you… create a family? How do you _breed_?"

It was slightly awkward asking, but I wanted to know, I was curious. Pretty sure there was a mention of how it worked in the Codex but I only skimmed through all of it so I could get rid of the notifications nagging me. And even so I only touched the technological aspects of the game, barely the biology of each individual species other than the basics.

I asked because he probably wouldn't be too embarrassed to answer. He worked into the clinic, for Christ sake. He'd have some professionalism and maturity to him, right?

"Our kind are haplo-diploid egg-layers. Females lay a clutch of a dozens of eggs annually, the unfertilized ones hatch into males while the ones that have been fertilized hatch into females." He explained, a slight beat to his voice as his speech began to pick up some speed. "If you are enquiring about the fertilization process itself, that I cannot answer. Salarian sexuality is strictly for the purpose of reproduction, involving numerous rituals and preparations for both families involved and a rather, 'sacred' affair so to speak." His lips twitched again. "Not to mention I've never been a participant of such a ritual, so I lack the experience to provide an answer."

"Do you… fall in love?" I wondered. "I know that you guys process things a lot quicker, but does that mean you don't form crushes? Or you do fall in love but it fades quickly?"

He shot me an incredulous look, almost as if the whole concept of love was alien to him. "Salarians lack sex drives, meaning we have no concept of romantic love, sexual attraction or the biological impulses and social rituals that complicate other species lives."

"So do salarians not have partners?" I wondered, side stepping a nearby turian that paid me no heed. "What about the bond between parent and child? I don't just mean romantic love, I mean platonic and parental as well- or if you guys had a pet. Do you feel an… attachment at all?"

A long pregnant silence ensured, a horribly awkward one as Laben's eyes blinked and twitched in every possible way, struggling for the words to answer my question. "It's… hard to explain." He finally said, blinking rapidly again and lips curling downwards into a slight frown. While Salarians do not _love_ so to speak, I suppose the closest we have to such bonds and attachments are loyalty and friendship. Since male-female relations are rare given our biology, the closest equivalent and best way to explain this bond between mating pairs would be a close platonic friendship. As for family bonds, they are formed from birth through simple psychological imprinting to ensure equal loyalty to both sides of the family."

"Do you have family?" My own came to mind, but I squashed the thought of them down.

"It is rare for one of our kind to not have a family," he explained matter of factly. "Salarian clan sizes can number up to millions."

"Wow." I muttered to myself. "Okay, let me rephrase. Do you have closer family? Does your father live with your mother? How long did you live with them?" I cleared my throat, suddenly worried I'm bothering him. "If I'm asking too many questions feel free to shut me up by the way."

"Oh no, no it's perfectly alright." He quickly reassured me. "Do have a close family in fact, all one hundred of them-" hundred? "-but I suppose you meant my parents and siblings. And no, they don't live together, it's rare for a mating pair to be living under the same roof. Dalatrasses have lots of duties, most of them too important to allow them to be tied down by simple family bonds and such. And I lived with them for eight years."

"Don't salarians age… quicker? Mentally, I mean. Like, I'm seventeen, would that be a mature age for you?" I blinked. "I never asked your age."

"Fourteen, and yes we do. Comes with high metabolism."

"You're fourteen?" I asked with slight surprise. It sounded so young. "What's the equivalent of that in human years?"

"Presumably thirty to forties."

"Damn." I blinked a few times. "So, why the clinic? Is that the most common work choice for a salarian? Or just personal preference?"

"Personal preference really, never been one for numbers nor military or subterfuge."

"How did you get into it?" I wondered. "Like, did you study medical science beforehand and just get hired?"

"Studied medicine of course," he said, an unspoken 'you don't say' left hanging. "You have been asking a lot about me, yet you hadn't said anything about yourself."

I scratched my arm, averting my gaze. I had slight time to think about the mundane response to give people when they asked but still couldn't deliver it properly- because I knew how bullshit it was. Just keep to the truth as much as possible. "Not much to know, to be honest. Small town kid, sheltered a lot, not much else. I'm not very interesting. You are."

"Hardly would describe my life as _interesting_ , been mostly quiet and not much to say as well. Start somewhere comfortable, as you humans say, we'll wing it from there."

"Like I said," I thought back. "I lived a sheltered life- I loved to sketch a lot." Sketching was normal. Art. Good. "Homeschooled a little, due to bullies at school. Not much else. My home town was small, but had all the shops and a close library that I liked to go in, and also a park next to it. I loved that park."

"There, already making progress aren't we?"

For once, I saw what I believed to be a true smile grace the near expressionless' Salarian's lips. Though it disappeared just as soon as it showed.

"I suppose." I let out a low chuckle. "I just don't talk about my old life, it's... hard. For reasons…" I grimaced at the piss poor excuse. "Maybe I'll explain later someday."

"Hold you up to that, Salarians have long memories. Not as perfect as Drell's but close."

"I imagine that must be handy." I mused to myself. "Having a memory as perfect as a Drell. Must be handy for tests and reading textbooks."

"Not so much if said Drell is diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Suicides amongst retired Drells who served in the military alarmingly high."

"Damn, I didn't think about it that way." The thought was a little unnerving, and morbid. Imagine seeing your best friend dying in exquisite detail and reliving that. _That's fucked…_ "Anyway, onto a more… cheery note- I'm a little nervous for my new janitor job. I don't want to mess up."

Laben stopped in his tracks for a split second before continuing his motion. "Janitor you say? Wouldn't judge."

At his pause, my eyebrows had to knit together. "What's wrong with being a janitor? It's a paying job and someone has to clean up the mess people leave behind."

"Precisely, nothing wrong with it, just surprised."

"Why surprised?" I was confused.

"Why not? It's a normal natural reaction to the unexpected."

"Do you not see many human janitors?"

"Not many people would move all the way to the galactic center just to be a janitor."

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish. "That's a good point. But something has to pay the bills."

"Fair enough," Laben commented, stopping in front of a building and turned to me. A large van - a wheeless one at that - was parked by the entrance, it's back open and showing some large metal contraption held within. That hydrogel regrowth vat he mentioned earlier most likely. "Got to go, work and duties await."

"See you later Laben, I'll probably be back late."

The club was buzzing with as much life as the night before. Eager patrons, dancers fluid in their movements and gracefully hypnotising in their motions. The music pounded into my body, pulsating away through my veins and into my lungs like an infection. I tapped my foot as I shifted, awaiting for the woman that Fist had instructed to help me on my trial day.

Pushing away any doubts eating away at me I approached the bar with a slight reluctance in my step.

The asari perked up behind the counter, and winked at me as I approached, purposely arching forward to bend over and give me a rather generous view of her ample cleavage. She moved closer so I could hear her over the music- and probably to improve my view. "What can I get you cute one?"

 _She probably says that to everyone she serves._

"I'm the new janitor." I explained, putting my hand on the bar surface. I forced myself to stop from edging away when her eyebrows arched, the movement briefly drawing my attention to her white facial markings that lined the corner of her eyes as she stared at me inquisitively.

"Daniels right? Looking for Akira?" The Asari asked, to which I nodded, feeling my stomach tighten. "Alright, give me a moment. Have a seat, would you like any drinks in the meantime?"

I quickly shook my head to that. Probably- no, never a good idea to risk intoxication right before work. I knew Fist offered in the interview but I'd rather keep sober on my first day, less chance of messing something up.

"Have it your way hon," she chuckled and turned away, leaving me alone at the bar. Thankfully she didn't take too long, returning with a woman in blue coveralls that covered every inch of her skin before quickly scurrying back behind the counter to serve some other patron on the other side of the bar.

Her jawline was strong and squarish. She had mossy green eyes, a beauty mark on her left cheek and blonde, puffy curls that cascaded to her shoulders.

"Akira Erskine," the blonde introduced herself, her voice tinged with a slight Scottish brogue. I half expected her to hold out her hand for me to shake but she didn't. Instead she rested one of her hands on her hip, leaning against the bar counter with the other, eyes going over me, almost judging. A few creases marked the edges of her forehead, along with a small thin scar that cut across the edge of her left brow, ending just above her lashes. "Head custodian of the Den. You the new hire I've been expecting?"  
 _  
It's also hard not to miss the bulge beneath her coveralls. I had no doubts that there's some gun under that. What kind of custodian carries a freaking gun around?_

"Yeah, Penelope Daniels." I didn't hold out my hand for fear she'd just reject it and I'd make myself look like an idiot. "But I prefer Nell."

She turned on her heel, offhandedly motioning for me to follow. "Two important rules you are going to need to know before you start. First, always keep the cleaning closet locked no matter what. Last thing we need is another wasted moron crawling in there and mistaking a bottle of bleach for more booze." _Another_? "As for the second rule, don't enter Fist's office, not even to clean it unless you want our bouncer-" she motioned at the Krogan as we passed him and into the back rooms, "to give you a quick crash course in how to follow simple instructions."

I shuddered at the unspoken threat, which similarly served to remind me what other side activities Fist had going on aside from running a strip club.

Akira spun around and looked into my eye. "You got all that?"

She interrupted me before I could work my mouth into forming any reply. "Good," turning back around, she pointed at one of the doors to our left. "Cleaning closet is that door over there, that's also where we keep our medical supplies in the event of a workplace accident. The door beside it is where we store our beverages, try not to get them mixed up. Make a mess in there and you'll pay for the damages and more. Another thing, always make sure the private booths are empty before opening them, and under no circumstances should there be any form of sexual activities going on in the bathrooms. Find anyone who does remind them of the rules then point them toward the private rooms. If they can't follow simple instructions come back with a bouncer behind you. As for the other half of your job, you'll need to change out of those coveralls if and when you get called to help out with the waitering during the more busy hours. Don't forget to wash those hands of yours when you do though, and for the love of God don't let anyone know that the girl bringing drinks to their table is the same girl who scrubs the toilets."

I took a breath, then started to quickly list off the things she told me, crossing them off my fingers. "Don't go into Fist's office. Make sure closet is clean and always locked. Make a mess, I pay for it. No hanky panky in the bathrooms, they don't listen- get bouncer. And always wash my hands. Got it."

"Good," Akira nodded curtly as she unlocked the cleaning closet. "You'll find most of what you need in here, scrubbers, mops, cleaning agents of all sorts for various different purposes and uses. If you find yourself running low just go out and buy more, you can claim the costs later, be sure to attach the recipe though, or you wouldn't be reimbursed for the expenditure."

The closet opened, revealing most of what she said piled neatly into the compartments, a broom leaning up against the wall on the side as well as a mop dipped into a bucket which was empty. A small chair sat at one corner, its surface worn from many uses. The smell of chemicals, what reminded me of bleach and some odd scent I didn't recognize stained the air. The blonde stepped inside, I shuffled after her. Being taller than me, she was able to reach up with ease to a shelf to grab something thin and shiny looking out of a box. I made a mental note to find a stool for future reference for the higher cabinets I knew I wouldn't be able to attain.

She turned halfway half heartedly holding out some-what I soon realised were gloves-out toward me. I paused for half a second before taking them, pulling the tight pieces of protection onto my fingers. They felt somewhat… rubbery.

"Always wear these when handling the measurements for chemicals and cleaning agents, some of them burn like a bitch if you get it on your skin." She explained to me before quickly going through all the cleaning agents, which one to use when scrubbing the washrooms for example, and how much per use. It almost seemed a little insurmountable, hearing her list off instructions of use for each and every one of them. There's enough juice in here to poison an entire school.

At some point during the conversation I remembered switching on a recording application on my omni-tool that I had found the previous night before, seeing as she was speed running her mouth almost faster than Laben seemed to do when talking about his home planet or just explaining things in general. It was just a precaution, in case I forgot something she had sped over. It was a lot to take in.

"Don't worry about the bar itself though, bartenders will clean that themselves, least of all you accidentally end up poisoning some of the customers." She chuckled slightly to herself, corners of her eyes wrinkling with mirth. "The previous one ended up accidentally knocking a bottle of that cleanser over on the counter and made a hell of a mess and pain to clean up. Or even better, leaving an unlabeled bottle of that shit on the bar itself."

She seemed to be able to zip and waltz around the place with a casual vibe, like she was at home rather than a gentleman's club. I scratched my forehead, feeling the elastic-esque material through my nails rub up against my skin. It felt odd.

"How long have you been working here?" I sniffed the gloves when she wasn't looking. My nose scrunched up slightly at the weird latex smell.

"Six years."

My neck craned around to gawk at her slightly and my eyes widened a fraction. She shrugged at my reaction. "What's with the look?"

"Just-" I shook my head. _What if I worked here for that long? There's no way I'd be ready to defend myself against the reapers with a broom. I can't intimidate them with cleaning products either, what am I supposed to do? Threaten to spray them with polish? Maybe I shouldn't focus on it, for now I need credits. Rent. That's all that matters right now_ _._ "Nothing, just a bit surprised."

"Surprised?" She snorted again, crossing her arms beneath her chest. "Speak for yourself, I should be more surprised than you are. Aren't you a little too young to be working in a joint like this?"

Certain pompous snobs on the Citadel didn't hire inexperienced youngsters. They hired experienced people with skills- yet- to get experience, you have to have worked before. It's a stupid broken, paradoxical system.

However, I didn't say my little rant out loud, knowing that work wasn't really a place to complain- especially not to your boss.

I bobbed my shoulders. "Being young doesn't really matter. I got rent to pay. I'm lucky- I'm grateful that Fist even considered hiring me."

"Bills to pay, sure, whatever suits you." She pushed herself away from the wall and exited the closet. Damn, so much for first impressions. "Now get out there, work starts now. Got any additional questions, this is the week to ask them, because we'll be working on different shifts starting the next Monday."

"Got it." I fiddled with the gloves, adjusting them so they covered my skin properly. They reached up to my elbows, extra precautions so the chemicals didn't burn my skin, I supposed.

"Wait, what do I change into if I get called to help with waitering."

"You'll find it in the changing room at the back, just pick any empty locker. Don't wear the dancer's outfit unless you feel comfortable with showing more skin than you are used to. You'll get more tips if you do though."

Uuugh, I made my face at the thought of wearing something that skimpy. Hopefully the one I'm to wear wasn't as… liberal so to speak. "So, uh, any advice on where to start? The bathrooms?"

"No difference really," Her puffy hair bounced when she whirled back around, throwing up a dismissive hand over her shoulder, voice blending into the pounding music as she vanished into the red lights. "Good luck kid!"

"Right." I nodded my head, wondering what on earth I had gotten myself into.

Cleaning in Chora's Den was interesting to say the least. I had started in the toilets as I said I would to Akira.

The men's was… disturbing.

There was a stain, except it seemed to have an alien colour and… smelled foul. My lips thinned and I kept myself from heaving up any vomit that stirred around in my gut before cleaning it with the push broom. By the time I was done violently scrubbing, everything was squeaky clean- and I felt exhausted.

And I wasn't even finished yet.

I ignored when the door hissed open and heard a grunt of surprise when I supposed that the gentleman who entered saw me arching over slightly, viciously scrubbing away at piss that was on the floor with my mop.

 _Don't men know how to fucking aim?_ I sneered down at it, then peered around to look at the man who was still standing there. He was a chubby man with hardly any hair, dark eyes and sweating skin.

His eyes flickered around awkwardly. He stood there, doing nothing. I stopped myself from throwing a dirty sponge at him from my irritation. "What? You gonna take a piss or do you need your mummy to hold your hand whilst you do it?" He stared. "What? What do you want?"

Talking to the customer like that was probably going to get me into trouble, but the amount of stink in here was starting to get to me. It could irk a person like you wouldn't believe. The amount of inconsiderate bastards that left horrible stains and vile smells in here and drew on the walls. Seriously- were they children? Did they just like to make my life difficult?

"I'm… you're in here."

No fucking way. He's a genius.

"I'm a janitor." I slowly explained, staring right back at the moron as if he was a young boy or dumb animal.

His thick eyebrows knit together and he shifted on his feet, vexed by my patronising. "I'll wait."

"I'll go in the stall if it makes you more _comfortable_." I gritted my teeth, getting to my feet and going into the stall next to me before locking the door. I tapped my foot until eventually, I heard him unzip his trousers. _He better not miss that damn urinal, I swear to god I will pour this cleaning agent on his pecker and then he'll be writhing on that floor in agony…._

 _Then again, I don't want to be fired… on the first day..._

Sooner or later, the sound of the stream stopped, and there was a hiss of the door opening.

I unlocked the door and stepped out, letting out a breath.

"Thank god, he didn't miss."

Relieved that he knew how to correctly pee, I reached into the trolley of cleaning equipment, tearing off the gloves and washing my hands before yanking out a new pair from the box. Then I poured the dirty water from the bucket into the sink, filling it out again with cleaner water, mixing the cleaning agents in with it.

 _Mum would have a fit, seeing me clean this much._ My own room always looked like a tornado ripped through it, then I had a party in it. I wasn't the tidiest person back home, probably the most sloppiest person there was out of my friends. The fact I had a job as a janitor would have made them laugh and ask me if I was ill.

This was the last job I thought I'd have, especially in a world full of aliens and fantasy and just- everything cool. This was the _future_ after all.

And here I was, cleaning the men's toilets in a strip club joint.

I huffed at the thought, wondering what other fans would have done in my position. Wondering what my friends would have done- or what my family would have done. They probably would've have survived, most likely got themselves locked up due to freaking out so muc-

" _Shit_." I snapped up, slapped out of my reverie when I saw the bucket overflowing with water. It splashed onto me, dampening my uniform shirt and my pant leg. I quickly turned off the tap and glanced down at the floor and my clothes.

 _Urgh. Great._

I repeated the process more carefully with the female's bathroom so I didn't accidentally flood it, which was almost uneventful with the exception of finding a used condom in the corner of a stall. Probably shouldn't mention it later. Gross.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed by as I performed my monotonous duty. Bathrooms, private rooms, clean the floor, empty out the laundry basket, use the dryer, put them back into the dresser, back to washroom, clean some vomit outside, mop up the spilled drink and so on. Thankfully, I wasn't asked to get changed and help with the waiters today. Still didn't think I'm quite comfortable with wearing anything as low cut as the ones I've seen on the bartenders. It's not as bad as the _g-string_ lookalikes some of the dancers wear but still…

Still, aside from uncomfortable, awkward and the occasional revolting incidents involving the toilet and private rooms, this seemed tolerable. Almost. So far. I could do it, so long as I ignore the occasional and very rare - and thankfully brief - leering. A small, relieved smile found its way to my lips as I returned to the closet to put the mop and bucket away. Most seemed to have their eyes on the Asari around here, so I should be-

The smile quickly died away from my face when the door hissed open, replaced by an inquisitive frown. Akira seemed to have finished early, if I were to deduce from the fact that her coveralls were already neatly hung up against the side of the wall. What really drew my attention, however was the medical kit that seemed to have been missing from its place.

I didn't remember seeing any workplace accidents happening today.

Returning the cleaning equipment to their spots, I did a quick search around the small closet. It could've just fallen off its spot, no need to jump to conclusions yet. Though I found myself to be disappointed in that regard when it's lack of presence in the room proved me wrong.

 _Crap, tell me I'm not going to be in trouble for this._

I let out an annoyed hiss as I mentally ticked off the number of times I came back to this closet, door closing behind me as I all but stormed out in a frantic haste, not even bothering to change out of the coveralls as I double checked and made sure that I had locked them after each use. Because if, by God someone actually waltzed in and stole the damned thing on my first day… shit shit shit. Not good.

I should check into the security office, bars have security offices right? Like to monitor cameras and all that. Pretty sure they lacked one when I visited Chora's while playing the game but that was different. Reality loved to throw a few extra things into the mix just to complicate things right?

Did they even have that around here? I had no idea. Don't think anyone pointed me to it if it existed. Or it could be in Fist's office, for which I prayed otherwise because that would mean talking to the Krogan bouncer. And I really didn't want to go talk to him.

I had nothing against Krogan honestly, even sympathetic to their whole plight. But that guy was a literal mountain of meat, taller, broader and wider than me in every way. His arms themselves looked as though they were chiseled from steel, each looking like it could carry twice or thrice his own weight. Not to mention his maw looked was huge, big enough that he could probably fit my head in there and bite it off without effort. Add those up with a perpetual angry scowl and you'll get an individual that radiated danger and with a giant neon sign that screamed 'stay away and don't mess with me'.

Shit, if this guy himself was this scary, I wonder what meeting Wrex himself would be like.

Sighing, I approached the common room. It's the one place in this whole Den that I could feel truly comfortable in. Wasn't hard to see why really, it's quiet, a place for employees to unwind when they are taking a quick tea or food breaks, rest up and relax before going back to work. It even had a few vending machines and a couch —a horribly uncomfortable one— in it.

If anyone had used the medical kit, you bet it's going to be in there. Failing that I guess I would just have to ask around.

Pressing my hand against the holographic haptic interface, I sighed, then froze as the door hissed open. Four pairs of eyes stared back into mine, including Akira's. I didn't recognize any of the other three, one of them whom was laying on the couch, hand pressing against his ches-

 _Is… is that blood?_

Well, at least I found the medical kit.

"Who the fuck is she?" The bleeding one snapped coarsely, eyes ingrained with thinly veiled hostility and suspicion.

I took a step back, finding my hands raising themselves. I quickly threw out an explanation, gaze trailing to the wound Akira was dressing. What the hell happened… "J-Janitor- I'm the new janitor!"

"Damn it-" Akira growled, torn between addressing me and helping the bleeding man before her. I noted with some alarm that she wore some kind of armoured vest over her torso beneath her jacket, a few specks of blood dotting its scratched surface. "Daniels, outside. _Now_. I'll speak with you later."

Without a word, I whirled around, putting a hand on the doorframe as I passed for support. Before the door hissed shut, I caught sight of the krogan again, feet frozen to place when amber eyes met mine, flashing with pain and irritation.

 _Fuck._

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

This was bad.

I knew Fist was bad news. Working here wasn't exactly going to make me a saint, I knew this. But seeing something shady first hand rather than on screen and just thinking about it in the back of my head different. Something bad is going on. I was subtly and indirectly part of it.

I contemplated to myself as time passed. I paced back and forth, fiddling with the hems of my sleeves. I avoided chewing on my nails, eyes flickering over left and right whilst I waited and waited and waited with trepidation. The air thickened- and my spine snapped straight the immediate second the door hissed open, and Akira waltzed out, walking with purpose.

Her thin lips were pulled down in a line, forehead crinkled and eyebrows furrowed. _Uh oh_ _._ Fuck. Was I going to get fired? I couldn't. I needed this job. It wasn't the best paying job in the galaxy- and it was in a shady strip club I knew wouldn't last- Fist could eventually die by a potential renegade Shepard's hands- but all I knew was that panic mode was starting to activate. I couldn't lose this position, I needed the money.

"I won't say anything. To anyone. I promise." I quickly opened my mouth, instantly taking on the defensive. "I need this job- I- please, I just- I _really_ need this job. I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"Damn it kid," she sighed, wiping her still bloody hands against her jacket. My stomach churned at the sight of it, but I squared my shoulders and ignored the stain. "What are you still doing here? Your shift is over."

"I-I was looking for the missing medical kit." I muttered softly, gaze travelling to my feet sheepishly. My shoes were squeaky clean if a little rugged looking, unlike Akira's fingertips, which seemed to be dipped deep in this mess.

I had known exactly the kind of work Fist was doing. I had signed up, regardless. But what else could I have done? No other place was hiring! There was nothing else I could do- I couldn't risk losing this job.

Rent needed money. To get money- I needed a job. Fist was the only one who took me in. If I lose this place, then I lose rent money. I lose rent money, my ass gets evicted. I get evicted, I get tossed on the streets. Tossed onto the streets, I starve- I slowly rot away. No one else seemed to want to hire me at all.

Conclusion- I couldn't get fired.

My heart raced.

"Well you found it, excellent work." She snapped irritably, looking up at me with flaring emerald eyes, something akin to aggravation dancing within them. "You could've… damn it all, you'll found out sooner or later anyway." She snorted in mirth, lips twitching. "So kid, here's the thing, as you may have already figured out by now this isn't a very law abiding establishment."

"I don't care." I carefully said, ignoring the brief look of surprise that flashed across her features so quick I wasn't sure I saw it. I shifted on my feet and looked down, inhaling deeply- then I swallowed and met her gaze unwaveringly. "I… I want to continue working here. I'll keep my nose out of it and mop floors, help serve drinks- whatever you want." I put a hand up then, widened eyes expressing my concern. "Oh-uh, whatever you want- cleaning wise. That is."

"Sure you do kid," she chuckled, clearly not believing a word I said. Within good reason. I was a young woman working in a place most people considered rock bottom, who also just saw some shady crap happening in the common room. The last thing people wanted was to get dragged into that kind of stuff- mainly get into trouble for it. I was scared- and she knew it.

It was probably written all over my face.

"What you think or care doesn't matter really, because frankly we don't care too. Just stay out of the way if you see anything and keep your lip shut, that's all that matters. You wouldn't be asked for coerced into doing anything you wouldn't want to do unless you decided to get involved, so just keep doing your janitorial duties and whatever else you got here. Just know that something else is also going on under the house and that it's none of your business.

"Yeah, yes, yep," I nodded. "Affirmative- _absolutely_." My hair bounced around my face when I bobbed my head again. "I can… _definitely_ do that. One _hundred_ and ten per-" At her look, I stopped. "Overdoing it- right. Okay. I'm gonna- I'll just lock up and go home."

"No you aren't," she quickly inserted, I felt my body stiffen. Anxious. "Just go home, and think about it. Or grab a resignation form if you don't feel like this is going to be a thing."

"No need for resignation now," I laughed nervously, putting my hands up defensively again. It was starting to become a habit. I cleared my throat and my feet began to shuffle backwards. "I'll just- I'll go home now so I can sleep for tomorrow- all bright eyed and bushy tail-" pain stung in my shoulder blade when it collided with the frame, I winced and rubbed it, throwing Akira another sheepish look for the evening. "-tailed… uh… see ya."

A hand slapped down on my shoulder before I could take more than two steps. My blood chilled and I barely stop the timid squeak from escaping my throat. "Another thing kid," her voice was cold this time, whispered softly into my ear. "Don't get any silly ideas, wouldn't be the first time we had to deal with a snitch."

Her breath brushed up against my cheek, I shuddered and decided it was best to just shakily nod and not say anything more, least I fucked up something else. It occurred to me, that they could dispose of me anytime that they wanted to. The thought terrified me.

"C-Sec tends to notice when one goes missing or dead so that's not going to happen." The hand on my shoulder tightened, I could feel her nails digging into my skin even through the coveralls I wore. "But rest assured you are going to wish you are if you try anything. After all, workplace accidents happen all the time, wouldn't want that pretty face of yours to be scarred and disfigured, do you?"

Dread dripped down my back like a bead of icy water. I tightly nodded again, clenching my jaw. Those fingers uncoiled from my shoulder, slithering off like a snake. She nudged my forward, I nearly fell flat on my face, but hastily collected myself.

"Get those coveralls washed will you? Wouldn't be good if anyone outside saw you working with bloodstains on your shoulder." Akira's voice went back to her usual pitch, a small chuckle escaping from her as she patted me on the back, putting _more_ stains on the uniform. "Go on now, off you go. Grab a drink from the bar while you're at it, it's on me. You look like you could use something strong."

She was right.

I had to slowly breathe and wait for a few moments before certain I could speak without my voice trembling. "Yes m'am."

After that incident I washed my uniform, grabbed a shot and chucked it back down my throat, feeling my eyes water at the disgusting taste but then soon after felt a nice buzz flittering around my head, lifting my dampened spirits.

With that, I left, stumbling home.

 _One hell of a first day at work._


	5. Chapter 5

**I'M NOT DEAD!**

 **But my internet has disconnected me from the frustration addictions of Fanfiction.**

 **However, as you can plainly see, I am back!**

 **Enjoy, and my apologies it took so long to get out.**

* * *

Day 12.

 _It's been a week._

Twelve days, of being in an alternate dimension, working as a janitor in a strip club for nine days.

It was the evening. I sat on the couch in the same clothes I wore the day I got here. My legs were folded with a breakfast of cereal on my lap, occasionally you could hear me crunching and the clinking of the spoon tapping the bowl. My groggy, squinting gaze peered down at the milk as I stirred the bits of food around in it, clenching my jaw as Akira's flaming green eyes burned an image into my mind.

My boss was scary, I had found.

I could still feel the sting of her sharp nails biting into my shoulder, and the cutting feeling of fear piercing my insides.

It had been a good few days since I had that encounter. She was casual around work, flitting around. A facade carefully placed onto her face, the friendly mask for customers. However, I realised, I did not want to push her enough to piss her off.

I was a little clumsy at first, knocking over brooms and not using the right cleaning agents for certain tasks but I had found myself settling down. Fitting in my place and my job. I didn't anger her, I tried my best to ignore any mess that seemed shady and just stayed in my place, keeping my head down and cleaning. Thankfully, such instances were rare. Of the nine days I've been working here I only had seen two instances of that sort. That incident on the first day with that bleeding guy -apparently he got into a tussle with an ungloved Turian while on a 'job'-, and the other was finding a suspicious looking crate that resembled one of those surplus containers for firearms. I didn't have any incidents in the bathroom or see anymore blood.

Surprisingly in turn, I got more shifts. More hours. Which meant more pay. I thought it would be the opposite, considering. But Akira, for whatever reason, decided to trust me a little more. This left me with the theories that a, she was welcoming me with open arms and trying to be a little more nice, or b- this was a test of loyalty. To see if I'd betray her trust and snitch.

Which, I wasn't going to do.

I wasn't stupid.

Well- that stupid.

On the side note, there's almost so much scrubbing and cleaning before I found myself with nothing left to do. So it didn't take too long before I found myself in that… outfit. The one worn by dancers in the game. While it wasn't very generous with showing skin, thankfully, it still showed much more than I'm comfortable with, with half my chest and upper thighs exposed to the air.

I told myself it was like underwear- then linked it to being like a swimsuit, one of those one-piece ones, not a bikini. A swimsuit with very high stockings and sleeves. Sooner or later, I managed to ignore it- along with the rather lewd gazes that drifted over to me at certain points, which trailed back to the much more toned and attractive dancers. Men were men. They were gonna look. Thankfully, everyone seemed to prefer asari. The few who came in to look at humans gave me a few once overs but quickly went to their tables for the professionals.

I had also been wearing the same clothes to work everyday. Much to my relief, Akira didn't seem to notice, or more likely, she didn't care that I wore the same clothes to work for nine consecutive days. Either way it was beneficial to me- less questions. Less suspicion. Laben didn't seem to notice either- maybe he thought that it was a normal human thing to prefer to wear the same clothes. Unless he thought I was a slob and just accepted it. Or that it was cheaper or neater to just have one outfit.

I was starting to become bored of the same old clothes everyday. At first it was comforting, it gave me an assurance that I wasn't staying here, in a way. But now it gave me pause and made me realise- I could be stuck here for the rest of my life.

However long that was- with the Reapers around the corner in a few years.

I wasn't ready for that at all.

I didn't have a plan.

Maybe I should make one.

The only one who would even be remotely ready for the Reapers, would be Shepard. Ironically, the safest place I could be, was by her side. It was the most dangerous, yet the safest place. Contradictory, I know, but it was strangely true. If I stayed in human colonies, I'd end up abducted by the collectors. If I tried going anywhere, the Reapers would eventually get me. Shepard had a crew, Shepard was a hero and the main character of this story. She or he would save us all. They would have the means necessary to kill them.

But did I really want to join Shepard? When I could barely throw a punch?

I had weak hands. Soft, small and delicate lady hands. It was frustrating. Though- the more I thought about it- why would I have to focus on close combat? As long as I could shoot something, wasn't that all that mattered?

In all honesty, to get recruited by Shep, I'd need more than gun skills.

What could I do though? Throw a sponge at a geth and threaten to clean it?

"Jim's Jesus Crackers." I grumbled to myself, knowing that I couldn't do anything special. I had a few years to train myself. The Blue Suns was an idea- to join through Garrus's Archangel mission, but could I do that? Surround myself with mercenaries that would kill their own grandmother for a credit?

Did I even want to get recruited?

No, I didn't.

But, like I had said earlier, it was oddly enough the safest place to be. By Shepard's side. The apartment could be shattered to a bunch of little pieces in those few years, me along with it.

It was also the right thing to do- and I was one of the idiots that happened to live in this galaxy right now. Why not try to help prolong life for a little longer?

Fighting wasn't my thing….

But being alive was….

"Urgh!" I almost threw my cereal, caught in the crosshairs of my morals and ethics. I knew things. I could try to prevent them- but I also couldn't exactly go up to Shep and boss the Commander around. Maybe I could become an advisor of sorts, nudge him or her in the right direction or take matters into my own hands.

I wasn't a warrior, I wasn't ready for this shit.

"I'm too young for this." I moaned to myself, then stood up and walked over to the sink to dump the empty bowl there. I sighed, switching on the stream of water so I could wash up.

I wanted to go for a short walk before work, to contemplate the following years ahead. To plan. To be careful and safe and stay alive.

As soon as I stepped out of my door I didn't expect to turn on my heel and suddenly crash into something.

Displeased, irked and wanting to just falsely apologise out of politeness and bolt- I looked up and opened my mouth but it stayed hanging when a familiar pair of eyes locked onto me. It took me a few moments before I had a revelation- realising where I knew that gaze from.

It was the asari.

The same one from that cell in C-Sec.

I couldn't remember her name….

"You." I found myself uttering, blinking a couple of times to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Her hand propped itself on her hip, prominent in the rather short dress which cut off at her waist on both sides. It was short for an asari. I suppose even daring in their culture. It was kinder than saying… promiscuous.

Her lip twitched, then quirked up into a smirk. Her eyes stared across at me and twinkled with a small flicker of mirth- blending with a mixture of mild confusion and inquisition. "Furball. It's been a while."

"Furball…?" My hand snapped up to my hair self-consciously, forehead crinkling at the distasteful nickname.

"What have you been up to? Haven't gotten arrested again lately have you?" There was a teasing tone to her playful comment, then a wiggle of her eyebrows. Her teeth bared in a wicked smile.

"What are you doing here?" I ignored her question, leading with one of my own. I glanced around the hallway, searching for any possible reason she could have been here- then it clicked. "You live here?"

"Nooo, of course not." her voice dripped with slow sarcasm, giving me a look that suggested she thought I was an idiot. Which is true, but still, rude. "I was on my pilgrimage hunting for the wild varren that held the cure to the genophage."

"The Migrant Fleet wouldn't be pleased but the krogan would be thrilled." A light smile was growing on my face, there was a slight flicker of surprise across her face. Probably because I'm culturally knowledgeable. "I wouldn't joke about that too much around the krogan. They probably wouldn't take it lightly."

"They'd plummet me into the ground until I resembled bits of brain." Her grin glided from ear to ear. "Or- they would try." Her eyes trailed over my features. "Well. Look at that, you can smile. You're not a grouchy hermit."

"I was… confused, that day." I told her, remembering the first day I got here like it was yesterday.

"You shouldn't take drugs, it's bad for you." She feigned a pout, then tapped me on the nose. I edged back, leaning away from the weird asari. "I'm not an expert on human ages or anything- but aren't you a little young to be getting in that sort of trouble?" She rose an eyebrow, gaze trailing to the side. Her eyes glazed over, thinking about a different time. "Then again I got into all kind of shit when I was young."

 _Why do people keep saying that? Did I really look that young?_

"I'm seventeen." I defended. "Not eight."

"You're practically a fetus in my eyes, kid." She smirked at the frown that twisted on my face. "Hey, don't look at me like that. Compared to me you are a fetus."

"Whatever," I tilted toward my home, tapping a few buttons on my omni-tool until the green light flickered a bright red, letting me know that it was impenetrable- at least for now.

"You live here, huh?" Her voice followed me. "Makes sense, cheap shared apartments, someone your age wouldn't be able to afford the presidium."

"Just doing what I can." I responded, her footsteps easily caught up with mine. "What are you doing? Are you following me?"

"I'm going to work, kid," She answered, then looked down at me with a smirk. "Is that a problem? Don't I have your permission?"

I shook my head with a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. She's going in the same direction. Surely she's not going the same place I am. "You don't work at Chora's Den- do you?"

She looked amused, more than offended. "I may wear shorter and more interesting

clothes, but that doesn't mean I'm a dancer there."

I had the decency to look sheepish. "Oh… sorry- I just wondered since… don't worry."

"Since what, furball?" She queried, striding legs going a little faster in pace. She was about the same height as Akira, going 5'9.

"Don't worry about it," I didn't need any visits for my workplace. "You're just going to the same way is all, I thought you were going somewhere I know."

"Somewhere?" She leaned forward and bobbed me in the forehead with a finger, a teasing note in her voice. "Like Chora's Den?"

"N-no." I stammered, feeling my face flush. Fuck. "Of course not."

Her teasing smile died, replaced by a strange look. "Why are you heading to the Chora's Den? What business could you possibly have in that place?"

"It's…" I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. I couldn't deal with this- not now. I didn't need the asari sticking her nose in things that she didn't need to be involved in. I didn't even know if I was allowed to mention that I was working for Fist to anyone. "It's-it's not any of your business."

"Athame's ass," she hissed, face twisting into one of disgust. It caught me off guard. "Please don't tell me that stinking primate is starting to dabble into the underaged f-"

My embarrassed expression melted into one of horror. My hands shot out from my pockets, in another defensive position once again this week. I'm doing this a lot. I put my hands down and shook my head. "O-oh no! No! God- no!" I put a hand to my head, releasing a sigh. "I'm… a janitor, there."

"A janitor," she deadpanned. "At Chora's Den."

The only thing I could do in response was raise my shoulders in a weak shrug. "No one else hired me, Fist was the only one that even considered hiring some inexperienced kid."

"Still, Chora's Den?" She shook her head. "I'd say I hope you know what you are getting yourself into but you probably don't."

"I do." I grimly stated. I knew more than what she thought. A lot of reading on a Mass Effect wiki and playing through the screen would do that. "I'm young, but I'm not blind."

"I'm not talking about Fist's side 'enterprises'," she solemnly said before giving a shrug, the small movement causing her dress to dip a little lower and- are those bite marks?

What the hell?

...eh, hell, maybe she was just kinky in bed. It's probably nothing.

"My boss is scary, that's for sure." I nervously chuckled. The burning engravement of Akira's nails cut into my shoulder, I winced at the memory. "... I shouldn't talk about it. I'll get into trouble."

"Well, tell you what, I'll see if I can arrange something for you. Come find me after work and we'll talk, furball." She winked at me, reaching for my hand and turning on my 'tool.

"Arrange what?" I asked cautiously, analysing her.

"Something outside of Chora's and less skirting around the edges of the law," she said, typing a few things into my omni-tool, I watched warily. Is she…. Is she offering me a job? "There, you know where to find me."

"What's... the catch?" I asked, looking at the directions before closing my omni-tool and staring at the asari with something between confusion and scepticism. "No one else wanted to hire a human kid who barely has experience in anything. It's probably why Fist hired me, easy to dispose of. No family or friends to look for me and I'm too much of a nobody for anyone to care."

"Really?" She quizzed, arching a brow. "Well, what are you doing on the Citadel in the first place if that's the case. Penniless and alone. Watch too much vids about how wonderful this place is?"

"I..." _Keep as much to the truth as possible Nell, less of a headache that way_ _._ "It's kind of hard to talk about- let's just say I no longer have a family and I was tossed here with no choice, no money and a… severe lack of preparation."

It was better than _oh you know, I was unwillingly teleported to a fictional video game with next to nothing but the clothes on my back, arrested, then a mysterious stranger bailed me, handed me a random apartment and omni-tool and nudged me along with a pat on the back._

Come to think of it I did start of a little easy. I was handed an apartment and an omni-tool along with a get out of free jail card. But I didn't know how much more help I was going to get, I didn't know if this fairy godmother or godfather was still around or even gonna bother to save my ass if I needed it- I had to treat this as if I was fully alone now.

I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth but obviously still questioned his or presence everyday. Just who the hell helped me.

"It's complicated, then," was her simple response. I sighed internally, both relieved and disappointed that she seemed to have decided not to further press into the issue.

"Yeah, it's complicated." She has no idea.

"Well, you know where to find me. I got to go." She winked again, turning and walking away with a slight sway to her hips. It was only after she left my sight did I realize I never did ask for her name. Or her catch for that generous offer she had. I stood there and stared after her until she had left and vanished from sight.

I released a breath, leaning up against the wall by the side and pinching the bridge of my nose.

Fist- or the asari.

The thug, criminal, who ran a strip club. Or the mysterious asari I met in a C-Sec cell for public intoxication.

Who to work for…

It was odd, having options when in the first place no one even wanted to hire me. Now I had a choice between two jobs. Things were looking up.

Well…. There was also working for both places.

I could work for the asari during the day on my hours off- and then work for Fist during the night. It wouldn't leave me with a lot of free time but I didn't care. I didn't have anything to do in that free time anyway beside scan the extranet. It would give me extra credits- even leave me with credits left over.

Two jobs was… ideal.

I'd have like a few hours to work for the asari during the day. I'd probably be exhausted, but pay was pay.

Either way- I glanced at the time- I had to head to work now.

"I'm a bartender, not a dancer."

There was bound to be trouble of some sorts at the Chora's Den. There was always going to be.

Sometimes it's trivial, like that one Turian who crushed a bottle between his talons. Sometimes it's not, and it ends with someone getting tossed out of the Den minus some of their teeth, or most of it if the krogan was involved. The latter rarely happens, since the sight of a nearly eight feet tall hulking mass of muscles tend to discourage most from attempting something stupid.

Today however, the only security around was the krogan, all the others seemed to be missing, off on some other 'work' most likely. And right now the krogan was not at his spot. A dangerous combination in a place like Chora's Den.

I gently placed the tray down, careful not to drop any of the glasses I collected from the tables. Or spill any more drinks on me. Unlike the coveralls, my other 'uniform' wasn't exactly waterproof as I had learned when a Turian bumped into me earlier in the day and spilled half the contents in his glass onto my body. Thankfully, he was too drunk to notice, or complain about it. Unfortunately, it happened during one of the late, and arguably more busy hours, so I didn't get the chance to clean up the mess. Until now.

It was late, well past midnight according to the standard Human time. The music, usually loud and pounding had it's volumed dropped, playing something I later learned was a piece from a small time local band. Most of the Den was empty, even the circular platform where the dancers perform, the lone asari atop it moving with much less grace and enthusiasm than usual, especially since barely any of the customers left were paying attention to her. One was off by a corner, a turian, resting his head on one of the dancer's lap, the human whispering something as she gently stroked his crest.

The other, a human with ginger colored hair, was quietly sipping his drink at the other corner of the Den.

At times like this, it was hard to think of the Chora's Den as a strip club, but more of a quiet pub. If one could ignore the presence of barely dressed dancers and that giant neon sign of a shapely feminine figure lying in a suggestive position.

The other customer, however, was being an asshole. A drunken asshole, trying to get a private dance from the bartender despite it not part of her job description. The balding human leaned over the bar, ignoring T'Sui's increasingly exasperated attempts to turn him down, as though his brain was unable to process the word 'no'.

I was torn between jaw clenching anger or pity for that man. It's never wise to antagonise an asari for obvious reasons, and this idiot was really starting to ask for a biotic warp to the face. All thoughts of pity regarding the man's impending painful experience quickly left my head as he got increasingly forceful in his demands.

To her credit, she had the patience of a saint, her voice low and gentle -and noticeably lacking the usual sultriness - as she repeatedly told him off, reminding him of the strict off hands policy regarding the bartenders at all times. Patience that's been growing increasingly thin as the man persisted, ripping her hands away from the counter as soon as he reached for them, brow furrowed in annoyance, made even more obvious thanks to her facial markings.

"Sir, seriously you cannot ask that of me." I heard her, voice growing increasingly exasperated as she slowly dropped her 'sweet' facade, slapping away his hand when he tried to grab, or more likely grope her when she turned away. "We have house rules here, and-"

"Oh what does it matter," he slurred belligerently. "You are just a wh-"

Predictably, he never got to finish. All I caught was T'Sui's cornea glowing white as a bluish hue materialised around her body. A second later, he was limp on the ground and sliding across the floor, slamming painfully into a chair.

"He slipped," was all she said when I was caught staring, slack jawed as I watched the swirling energies around her fade. "Phew, that felt good."

Note to self; don't piss off an asari.

"First time seeing a biotic in action?" She asked me, to which I nodded my head numbly. "You're not one of those superstitious types who believe we are mind controlling demons who needs to be burned on a stake are you?"

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "No."

"Good," her soft chuckles joined with mine for a few short seconds before she sobered up. "Leave those glasses by the sink, I'll clean them later. After I dump that sorry prick outside."

"Can do." I threw her a quick salute, gliding around the counter to snatch them up. I placed them in the sink as mentioned. "Do you get that often? The guys trying to force a dance outta you?"

"Ha, no." T'Sui chuckled, rolling her shoulders lazily as she approached the dazed drunk. "Most of the time I just have to deal with people being overly friendly and asking me out for dinner or two, unwanted advances and all that. Idiots like this guy," she punctuated with a glowing fist before she started to drag the guy across the floor with her biotics. "Are rare. Most people tend to retain some form of self control, common sense and decency even while drunk."

The soft hiss of the door opening caused me to look up just in time to see her unceremoniously toss that man out onto the sidewalk. I hoped when he wakes up it would be in a puddle of his own piss.

"And how do you deal with people like that?"

"Politely turn them away?" She shrugged.

"Not call the bouncer?"

She smiled slightly at my question. "Bouncers only intervene if someone gets too touchy, or if someone starts being a nuisance and starts disrupting business. You'll eventually learn how to deal with people like him without relying too much on those beefed up goons."

"Easier said than done," I pointed out, wiggling my fingers with a small smile. "Not all of us have badass biotics."

"I don't mean through violence," she giggled slightly, shooting me a sly look. "Well, not unless they really deserved it. How do I put it…"

"Assert your dominance?" I joked.

"Something like that," she smiled again. "Just… be confident. I'm not saying you should outright start flirting with every person who makes a pass at you but rather, don't let them see that you are nervous and uncomfortable. Smile a little, be firm whenever someone tries to start a conversation. You get more tips that way too. And not everyone who comes here are assholes like that other guy, most tend to back away if you just let them know you aren't interested. Instead of being rude," she looked pointedly at me when she said that. "More likely to cause tempers to flare and solve nothing that way."

"True, you make a valid point." Maybe snapping at the man in the bathroom wasn't the best way to go about things… "I'll try to handle things more… calmly before I resort to asking Bronx to come over to plummet them into the ground." I gave a shrug. "Even if it's easier that way."

"Oh he'll just ignore you if he thinks it's not something worth his time. Depending on his mood you might end up annoying him too." She winked at me when she said that.

I had the bad mental image of him snapping and throwing me around like a ragdoll, splattering my insides along the walls like paint. "Yikes."

"Don't think too much about it," she smiled reassuringly. "You're handling this much better than I thought you would."

This both intrigued and slightly irked me but I swatted off the offended feelings because I knew I'd have the same doubts if I saw me walk into Chora's Den. I cocked an eyebrow, throwing her a sideways glance. "Oh?"

"Just a little, hon." She walked over and flicked me in the forehead. "You still got lots to work on, so don't get over your head just yet."

"Thanks Yulana." I rubbed the slight sting on my temple, scoffing a little. Yulana T'Sui was one of the nice girls that worked here, as long as you didn't get on her bad side and piss her off. But even then it was a little difficult to do that, and she helped me out a few times in my time working here, she was patient too- for that, I was grateful to her.

My hair became ruffled when she ran her blue fingers through it playfully, I shook my head in displeasure, waving my hand dismissively and edging away.

Her deep cobalt eyes flickered over to me, dark purple lips quirking to one side. "Alright kid, I gotta get back to work. You too, go finish cleaning up the tables and you're done. You look like you could use a wash."

"I had a shower this morning!" I defended, indignant.

"And now you need another, you stink of smoke and alcohol." She teased. "Don't forget to throw your dress into the washer before you leave."

"Great." My nose scrunched. "Well I better clean and then finish my shift."

By the time I'm finished, the Den's virtually empty. The turian who had been napping on the lap of one of the dancers had left, so did the one on the stage. The last to leave was that one human who sat at the corner quietly sipping his drink.

He was… odd, in a manner of speaking. I had seen him around from time to time, always sitting in the same corner, with the same drink and just looking. Observing. One of the rare ones who seemed more interested in the humans than the asari. Sometimes, his eyes rove over me, but those moments were brief, his attention quickly drawn elsewhere as he looked around with what seemed like disinterest.

And not once, did he oogle anyone who worked here. An eunuch probably.

Or a serial killer, stalking out his hunting ground and picking his victims.

Pausing at that morbid thought i shook my head and slipped out of the Den, yawning as the door closed and locked itself behind me, nose crinkling. She's right, I really needed a shower. And definitely a change of clothes soon. There's only so much I could do before the odor of wearing the same clothes over and over started seeping through.

Checking my 'tool, I stared at the address I was given. No point in going to visit her now, its late into the night cycle now, doubt anyone's going to be around for me at that stall she told me.

 _Tomorrow. I'll go tomorrow._

"Miss Daniels."

"Jesus-Jam-" I nearly fell at the speed I had whirled around, cursing into the air like it beat my mother. "-fucking-fucker-shit-!"

A man stood there. The one from earlier who was analysing the club. He was leaning against the wall, steel eyes carefully surveying me. Mouth in a thin line. I could feel my heart pulsating, exploding in my eardrums.

"What in the shit dude?!" I put a hand to my chest, trying to slow the hammering organ almost painfully pumping away. He merely stared. "You almost scared the bone marrow out of my body. You can't do that, approaching a girl outside a strip club at night standing there, staring at me like a damn serial killer and shit- Jesus."

 _Actually, that is kinda creepy…_

"Scared the bone marrow out of your body?" He dryly enquired.

Defensively, I squared my shoulders. "Did you need something? Or were you just practising your creepy stand and stare routine?"

"Your gib does you no credit Miss Daniels, and I see you already forgotten the advice your colleague gave you earlier."

"Politeness kinda flies outta the airlock when weird, eavesdropping men approach from behind at night and scare a lady out of their skin." I crossed my arms across my chest, cocking my hip. Yulana would forgive my snarky behaviour when I offered to buy her a drink later. "I repeat my earlier question, was there something you needed, sir?"

"A moment of your time for start."

Oh god. "Sir, I only clean the Den and occasionally serve drinks, I don't do that sort of service but the lovely ladies inside will be more than happy to abide to your requests- at a price of course."

With that said, I waved a dismissive hand and started to waltz off. Need dinner, then a shower. So tired.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves Miss Daniels," he snorted. Wait a second….

Ignoring the slight insult, I craned my neck over to him, knitting my eyebrows together. "How do you know my name?"

"C-Sec," he said simply, reaching within his jacket and pulling out a badge.

"You mean, you're C-Sec?" My muscles tensed up underneath my clothes. Fuck. This is about the lake thing isn't it? "Are you checking up on me? I'm innocent, it's in the case files I'm sure."

"Yes to the first and no to the second. Do you know a place we can talk?"

I didn't exactly want to bring him to my apartment or inside of the Den, lord knows I'd get into trouble. What could he possibly want? Did he think I had some good leverage on Fist or something? I was a cleaner, I wasn't a spy.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you." I decided to turn on my heel, quickly walking away, my footsteps increasing in pace. He can't arrest me for not talking. Or can he? Isn't that obstruction of justice? Fuck- when I get home I need to study the rules. Memorise the law and use it to my advantage. Thank you Extranet.

His footsteps echoed behind me. "Miss Daniels-"

My hands became clammy inside my pockets. My voice took a sharper edge. "You know, just because you're a cop- doesn't mean I can't file for harassment. This is technically stalking, right now."

"Stalking indicates an unwanted and obsessive attention towards and individual, or of any other malicious intent. I do not believe that is the case here Miss Daniels."

Bastard.

I scoffed. "Well, you're following me. That's unwanted attention."

"Hardly the case, but I do believe we need to speak."

"I don't think we do." I retaliated, my hair bouncing around my face the faster I tried to walk. "I have nothing to discuss with you other than the fact you really need to work on your manners. Sneaking up to women at night, staring at them creepily, persistently following them when they don't give you what you want. Honestly."

He easily caught up to me, longer legs striding forward. "Even if the conversation can be very beneficial for the both of us?"

My interest was peaked. I released a sigh, stopping and turning around to face him, noticing that we had walked some decent space away from the club. Drat, no help from Yulana. "What is this about?"

"C-Sec business of course," he answered smartly.

"Specifically." I dryly smiled up at him, it quickly faded into a scowl. "Smartass."

"In a moment of course," he started walking, motioning that I follow. "I'll like that we sit as we talk."

"Public place. Presidium. By the lake." I demanded. I'll at least hear him out. "Walk in front of me, ten feet ahead. You so much as touch me, I'll throttle you."

"Quite a walk," he frowned slightly. "But It'll do."

And so we travelled to the presidium. He kept his word, strolling in front of me. I cautiously followed, eyes darting to the shadows as if someone was holding a sniper rifle aimed at the middle of my skull or if someone were to suddenly pounce out and shank me.

Eventually we got to our desired destination. I waited for him to take a seat before warily sitting down next to him. The bench was cold against my bare arms, it was also a little uncomfortable. I stared out at the lake- the same lake that I woke up in, the same lake that somehow brought me here, the same lake that Garrus Vakarian had yanked me out of and stopped me from drowning.

"So?" I broke the thick silence, gaze flickering to the side at him. He calmly sat there, sitting straight and looking out at the lake. "What is this mysterious C-Sec business?"

"I take it you have some idea that your employer isn't exactly the most lawful kind."

It wasn't news that Fist wasn't the most lawful abiding citizen around. C-Sec knew it. Normal people around the Citadel knew it. Kids knew it. The neighbours cat knew it. To not acknowledge it was just plain stupidity, but what happens if I did admit it? Outloud, to a C-Sec agent. It still seemed like snitching to me. The shadow broker could be telling Fist I was talking to a C-Sec agent as we spoke.

"Where are you going with this?" I opted to say instead. I didn't outright confirm his theory, but I didn't deny it either.

"I'm giving you an offer," he pulled out a datapad and handed it over to me. Scowling, yet having piqued my curiosity, I took the pad from him. Much to my surprise, it looked very much like what Fist gave me to sign before I signed up to work in Chora's. My scowl grew virulent when I laid my eyes on the three damning words written in bold: **C-Sec Confidential Informant**. "A chance to work on the side of law and order."

My words dripped with a bitter venom. "You want me to snitch?"

"Such an ugly word, but yes."

"No." I curtly declined without hesitation, chucking the datapad onto his lap. I stood, brushing my crinkled shirt down. _The amount of shit I would be in if I were caught. Does this guy think I'm stupid? No amount of credits would convince me to rat out Fist. One of his damn allies was the shadow broker for Christ sake- he would find out. Then I would be in huge trouble for it._ Hell- I could be killed for even considering this.

"Are you certain?" His calm, infuriating voice echoed behind me, despite the storming and heavy steps my feet pounded into the ground to get away from him. "Not even to 'do the right thing' as they would say?"

"Never been more certain with a choice in my life." I called over my shoulder. That's a change, considering I'm usually indecisive. "It's refreshing."

Still, he insisted. "I assure you C-Sec can be rather generous to those who aid us. Credits wouldn't be as much of a problem as before, especially considering your current financial situation and pay."

I skipped a few steps as I climbed, not even sparing him a glance. "How idiotic do you think I am? I'm actually insulted." My eyebrows knitted together. "Is it the age? I may be young, but doing something this imprudent is just downright stupid." _Good thing I still had that offer from the Asari._

"Is that to be your final decision Miss Daniels?" I could almost picture him smirking as he said that.

"I'm seventeen, I don't need this stress." I complained through my teeth, grabbing the stair railing to yank myself up faster. "So yes, that's my _final decision_." I childishly mimicked his voice, probably not helping my image to be seen as a mature woman rather than a naive kid.

"I see," he sighed in what sounded like disappointment. "Very well Miss Daniels, you are under arrest."

"Wait what?" I span around when he grabbed my wrist. _The fuck_ _?_ "For what!?"

"Suspected identification forgery Miss Daniels," he answered matter of factly, I heard clicking of the handcuffs and struggled, but he pinned me against the wall. I felt my heart pound against my chest, throat constricting. "Do you honestly think that what transpired back in the precinct that day wouldn't arouse any suspicion?"

My mouth was wide open, eyes nearly falling out of my sockets. "Th-this is bullshit! You have nothing on me!"

"No, but given the circumstances regarding the discrepancies of your ID, that gives us a sufficient clause to have you detained for further questioning. Would you like to see the warrant for your arrest?" I pushed against the wall, trying to get out of his grasp. He applied pressure to my back, causing a grunt to squeeze out of me. He put the datapad next to my face- and there it was. The warrant to arrest me. My name plainly printed there.

"I did give you a choice, Miss Daniels."

 _Scumbag. Fucking- shitting-!_

"A choice? You call this a choice?" I snapped and craned my neck around to glare at him, hating that he was stronger than me- and how tight these handcuffs were. "Between betraying my boss and going to jail!? That's blackmail!"

"It is," he admitted bluntly. "How do you think CIs are recruited most of the time?"

Now I was pissed off.

But I was also scared.

I couldn't go to jail. I couldn't. I just got my life together, I had a job- I had credits rolling in and an apartment- I had a housemate that was turning into a friend. I couldn't answer questions either! What if they interrogated me again? I wouldn't be able to answer who I truly was. Technically- I didn't forge the identity on the files in the C-Sec system. I didn't register myself, my mysterious guardian angel did.

Fuck.

 _Fuck!_

 ** _Fucker!_**

"I'm offering you an out here Miss Daniels," he sighed, slowly leading- dragging me over to an air car parked nearby. "Identification forgery is a very serious offence, and if your presence on the Citadel is suspect, you may find another two or three additional charges pressed against you."

I wanted to slam my head against the car door- or mainly, I wanted to slam his head against the car door. But I'd probably get into even more trouble if I did that, and get even more time taken from my life.

Fuck.

"I can't," I felt desperate. He opened the car door and started to push my head in. "Wait- wait! Wait, wait, wait!" My breath hitched, he paused. _I'm in the shit. I'm so deep. Fuck._

"Well?" He broke into my quiet reverie. "If you are stalling-"

"Just, let me think. Please. Some time, please." I stressed, resting my forehead on the cool, solid car.

I didn't want to. Akira's threats still rang clearly in my head. Yet, here I am, being threatened again to basically do what Akira warned me not to do.

Being arrested was not an option. The Citadel eventually becomes a death trap, especially in the third game where the Reapers just took it and possibly slaughtered everyone on the station. If I'm locked up in a cell when that happens… well, pray they kill me right away instead of dragging me off for harvesting. Just the thought of being a Reaper captive send shudders down my spine. So a long term jail sentence was out of the question, without a doubt.

I'd take my chances, even if that meant being disemboweled by Fist or Akira. Any things better than being captured by Reapers without being given the chance to fight back, or end things for myself.

Not like anyone would miss Fist any-

Shit.

Tali.

Who is she going to go to if Fist gets arrested? In game Tali was pointed to Fist by Doctor Michel, who later pointed Shepard in the same direction. What's going to happen if Fist got incarcerated? Who knew what could happen if that became a reality. It was entirely possible that because of that minor screw up, Saren could get his hands on Tali before Shepard does and destroy all evidence of his activities. Which… damn it. Damn it!

Fuck.

Fuck!

I needed to…

 _Okay, okay. I got this._

I hoped this worked.

I was out of options- and my brain was running at a thousand miles a second, cogs attempting to turn in panic mode.

"Alright." I released a long exhale. His hold on me lessened. "Okay- okay. I'll… if I agree to this- you'll take the charges away? I won't be arrested?"

He raised an eyebrow at my query. "I can't say, but depending on the circumstances, Detective Chellick and those from Vice Investigative Department may consider looking the other direction in return for your cooperation."

"If I accepted before you got a warrant for my arrest, what would have happened?" I peered at him. "Would you have arrested me anyway? Even if I helped you?"

"No, I'll simply brief you on what to expect, and let you be aware that there's a pending investigation going on regarding your suspected identification forgery."

My tongue darted out, licking my bottom lip out of a nervous habit. "If I help- my case will disappear?"I raised my eyebrows for emphasis. "I need absolute confidence in this." Bastard. "If you talk to your boss, and manage to get me absolutely scott free as well as confirmation for evidence- I will put one hundred and ten percent in this. You tell me jump, I ask how high, kind of thing."

I hated this.

That I was so willing to sit and offer him my paw like a dog doing tricks for snacks. But I couldn't get arrested. It meant death. Plain and simple.

I didn't want to die.

"Miss Daniels, I'm not the judge and jury. I cannot make promises, but-" he quickly cut in before I could protest and complain. "I can promise that the more serious charges will be dropped, so at best you'll simply be deported for illegal entry and immigration. At worse, a few months in the pen then you'll be deported."

"Would I not be able to come to the Citadel again?" I wondered. Where the hell would I go? Illium was probably expensive and I doubted I could get a job there. Omega was suicide. Earth… who knew. At least there wouldn't be prejudice. Maybe my old house was there.

"You will, with the proper identifications."

"They are." I gritted my teeth. I had looked through the files my mysterious godmother/father had sent me for my identifications and they were correct. My date of birth had been altered of course- but my name was correct. My birthplace was correct. My qualifications and height and weight was correct. Most of the things there were correct.

"I find that incredibly hard to believe," he retorted. "What kind of proper identification mysteriously appears into the system right when there isn't one just seconds before?"

"Glitch in the system," I shrugged. "I have no idea."

"You wouldn't even be in this situation if that really was the case, Miss Daniels."

"Well, if you did your job correctly…" I muttered, then winced at a sudden feeling of tight discomfort burning in my wrists.

"Here," a soft click, and my hands were free. I suppressed the intense urge to spin around and start strangling the man, reaching forward to rub the sore skin.

"Does this mean I should start working toward my freedom?" I had to fight to keep the sarcasm from slipping into my tone.

"Not yet Miss Daniels, you hadn't even been briefed yet."

"So brief me." I commanded, cocking a hip to the side. _Idiot_.

He didn't seem impressed by my _enthusiastic_ attitude. "At nearly four in the morning?"

"What can I say?" I gave him a dry smile, unable to keep the sickeningly sweet tone from my voice. "I'm an eager and hard worker."

"Not the impression you gave me earlier Miss Daniels," he replied coolly. "I'll be in contact."

My lip curled but I quickly collected myself, tapping my finger along my arm and resisting the intense desire to reach forward and squeeze the life out of the C-Sec agent. I hate him so much. "I don't even know your name or details."

"Styczyński, Officer Styczyński."

"Sty-syn- what?" I couldn't repeat his name. I didn't dream of pronouncing it.

"You and half the department," I heard him mutter before he climbed into his aircar.

"Wait- If I can't even say your name, how am I supposed to call you?"

"You don't, I will." He closed his car door.

"Asshole." I mumbled to myself, turning around and heading for the lower wards. I was exhausted. It was a long day, I almost got arrested- I was being blackmailed and it was a horrible day altogether.

 _Mark would be pissing himself laughing at my misery._

At the turn of events, I wanted to hide underneath my bed, hugging myself and hoping my problems would just wither and die. I wished I could wait them out. But I knew I couldn't.

All I knew I wanted at that moment of time- I needed a shower.

 _I need to talk to Fist._


	6. Chapter 6

Day 13.

* * *

My leg wouldn't stop bouncing.

I rubbed my clammy palms down my trousers, attempting the rid of the sweat forming on my skin. I was waiting for Fist to finish his meeting on the com. Occasionally I heard a sharp voice, muffled but coherent with its vexed tone. It rose then became quiet again, off and on.

I could picture his eyes, flashing with anger at the revelation I had agreed to sell him out. Then possibly activating his turrets to shoot me down, bullets filling me with holes and draining my life.

 _I didn't have a choice._

The thought of the C-sec officer made me fidget, glancing around and flinching at the slightest movements. One of the rare human dancers openly compared me to a shaky chihuahua. I was on edge, the thought that he could be watching me was wildly unsettling.

The hairs on the back of my neck spiked. I sharply inhaled, reaching up and scratching the side of my head. _He isn't here. Calm down._

My eyes darted to the door the instant it hissed open, spine snapping up straight and skin crawling. I shot to my feet, sending another paranoid glance over my shoulder. My gaze quickly scanned the area as if he would be lurking there. But he wasn't- all I saw were the usual customers. Some new, some old. Bronx leaned against the door with what I assumed was a bored expression, squinted amber flicking around the club slowly and almost tiredly. Yulana was leaning forward, a flirtatious smirk smoothly gliding onto her mouth. Any quiet voices melted into the loud, rhythm of the music. Crimson and dark blue lights clashing against each other.

Slightly more assured, I switched my eyes back over to Fist- who seemed to quirk an eyebrow at my apprehensive keek. He didn't say anything and merely made a motion with his hand, beckoning me inside. I hurriedly shuffled forward, trying to resist the strong urge to peep behind me. It was a little difficult to keep my breathing pattern unwavering, lungs filling until they felt like they could burst. My heart was galloping out of the airlock and setting into hyperdrive.

The last time I was in this office was when I was signing my employment contract that started my career in the Den. It took less than two weeks before things started falling apart. Threatened by my supervisor into keeping things to myself and staying out of the way, then blackmailed by C-Sec into becoming their little snitch. Funny how my life got so much more complicated over a short span of time.

I'm a janitor for crying out loud. Janitors weren't supposed to have so much shit dropped into their laps.

Arranging this meeting was hard. Fist wasn't just any kind of boss, he's also a crime boss. You don't just go and talk to a crime boss, even if he's your employer. Bronx, that krogan bouncer who also seemed to be serving as Fist's personal bodyguard was almost ready to dislocate both my arms before I finally managed to persuade him that I really needed to speak to Fist.

Now though? I'm seriously starting to have second thoughts.

Fist didn't speak after hearing what I told him, not that he needed to. His body language clearly conveyed all that needed to be said. That he wanted nothing more than to thourotte me with his bare hands. Or hand me over to Akira. Or worse, Bronx.

I recalled the parting words Officer I-can't-pronounce-his-name gave me as I left the precinct earlier in the day after the briefing. _"_ _Don't get caught Miss Daniels. I may not be able to help you if you do."_

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, clenching the material of my trousers between my fingers. Technically, I didn't get caught. I approached him and spilled everything, so that's different. So I should be fine.

 _Oh who am I kidding? I'm screwed._

When he finally did, his voice was low, seething with an emotion I'm too terrified to identify. "If I remember correctly, you stated in your contract of employment that you did not have a criminal history."

"No charges were pressed." I folded my hands in my lap, so I wouldn't fidget underneath the searing fire in Fist's gaze. My gut churned uncomfortably and I tried to keep eye contact. "I didn't think it was important enough- I got released-"

He jumped to his feet, cutting me off mid sentence and snatching the bottle of scotch off his desk, hurling it past my head. I jolted and struggled to keep the yelp of fear from escaping my throat and shuddered, shrinking back into my seat as I heard it smash open against the door.

"Then what the fuck is this?!" He all but screamed at me, spittle raining all over his desk as he raged, slamming a palm down on the desk in a deafening boom. " _ **C-Sec!**_ Fucking C-Sec! You lying bitch!" The last word was accompanied by the sound of more glass shattering as he threw his drinking glasses at a nearby wall.

I kept quiet for a moment when I felt the tremor violently rake through my body. I felt tears stinging my vision but held them back, averting my eyes to my shoes. "I'm-I'm s-so, so sorry!" My voice broke. Fuck, this is bad. "I'm really, really sorry! P-please, forgive me. I-I fucked up!" The volume in my words grew softer as my agitation increased, sending a chill of dread through my veins. "I'm sorry… Please..."

Trying to defend myself with excuses was obviously just going to make him more furious, so all I could do was apologise immensely and hope he didn't blow my head off. If it meant I got to live- I was ready to drop to my knees and plead and beg for his forgiveness. Making enemies with Fist was the last thing I needed right now. All I wanted- was to live.

Fist paced angrily behind his desk as he fumed. "Yet, here you are, telling me all of this instead of keeping it quiet like any normal person would." He stopped, mid step and turned to face me. "Why is that?"

"S-scared." I ducked my head, holding my breath before I continued. I noticed my leg was bouncing again and stopped it, shoving my quaking hands underneath my knees. I closed my eyes, tilting my head down as I slowly tried to get my breathing back under control. Fist didn't seem like the kind to go soft over waterworks, but rather go the complete opposite. "Scared of what would happen if I get caught. And threatened…. P-pissed at C-Sec for blackmailing me." I exhaled shakily, curling my fingers.

Fist sneered, turning his back to me. "Get out," he seethed. "I'll need some time to think. And decide what to do with you."

Unsure of what this meant, I didn't need telling twice. I quickly stood, then zipped to the door. I didn't look back. _Guess my ticket out of jail is gone now_ _._ I needed to think of a plan of action- and fast.

 _Maybe Omega wouldn't be too bad._

Bronx stood outside Fist's office, blocking my way. My muscles trembled within my flesh and I attempted to circle around him- however, he didn't budge. Shit.

"See to it that she doesn't try to run away," I heard Fist order right before the door hissed shut behind me. A thin, feral like grin was all the warning I got before the lumbering krogan seized my wrist in a bone crushing grip and started to drag me away.

"You don't have to hold onto me." I looked down at the arm he was using to haul me off, noticing just how huge his hand was in comparison to my limb. My arm looked like a pale noodle in contrast to his beefy fingers- which coiled uncomfortably and painfully. One twitch, and he could probably break my wrist.

"No," his voice rumbled deeply as he chuckled, tightening his hold. It forced a whimper out of my mouth, through my wincing teeth. "But I _want_ to."

 _Sadistic bastard._

He brought me back to the cleaning closet and tossed me inside. The door hissed shut, engulfing me in darkness. I gritted my teeth and carefully moved to the side, feeling along the wall until my fingertips brushed up against the lightswitch. The sensor pinged at my hand- then the room flickered to life.

The equipment was neatly put away, as I arranged it earlier. Broom tucked in the corner, with the mops. Things put away inside the cabinets. There was no other exit. Just the one door Bronx wa guarding to make sure I didn't sprint for my life.

I sighed and pressed a hand to my forehead, leaning my back up against the wall before slowly sinking to the floor. My gaze blurred and tears started to cloud my vision- flowing freely down my cheeks. I started to silently cry to myself momentarily, and slapped a hand over my lips to muffle the sounds. I didn't want them to hear me.

 _I am screwed._

Officer-who-I-could-not-name would probably be annoyed when he found my corpse in the lake- or wherever Fist decided to dump my body. If there was even a body left to find. After all, I did alert Fist to the fact that C-Sec was onto him.

My watering eyes shot to the door, knowing that Bronx was behind it. I flipped up my hand, throwing him the bird without him knowing. I wanted to scream in frustration. I wanted to go home.

I swiped at the salty teardrops and sniffled, drying my face with tissues in here. Then I stared up at the ceiling and started to question what I did to deserve this. What I did in my old life to deserve being pushed to another dimension, being forced to work for this asshole and having to skit around C-Sec for fear of being put away just for existing.

Laben would no doubt be confused at the fact his housemate suddenly vanished out of nowhere- not a notice or note or any form of communication. He'd probably be mildly annoyed that he would have to find another person to rent the apartment with but get over it rather quickly. He was a salarian after all. He processed things a lot quicker than us humans did.

Whilst dread and a strong sense of anxiety ate away at my insides- anger quickly heated through my bloodstream. How could I have been so stupid to think that Fist wouldn't be so furious as he was? To think everything would have been fine and hunky dory?

"Urgh!" I cried out to myself and viciously kicked the door in my aggravation, not caring if Bronx heard me. I cursed a line of swearwords afterwards, a short explosion of pain bursting out in my ankle. I had obviously kicked the door at a bad angle. I sighed and curled up against the wall, tangling my fingers through my hair, attempting to zone out the headache pounding at the back of my skull.

At some point, I must had fallen asleep, because I woke up to the sounds of an argument outside the door. I recognized one of the voices as Akira's.

"- in there? You bloody idiot, what if she drinks from one of the bottles? Half the fucking cleaning agents in there are lethal to ingest- she could be looking for a quick way out."

I drew my legs to my chest, peeping up at the metallic, circular door. Tresses cascaded in front of my vision like a curtain, so I quickly swiped the hair aside so I could keep an eye out for the door in case they came in. My mouth felt dry. _How long was I asleep? How long have I been in here?_

"Good," the second voice was unmistakably Bronx's. "Then it'll look like suicide. Save us the trouble."

"Out of the way," she growled irritably. "I'll take it from here, Fist's orders."

 _Christ. Cthulhu. Spirits. Goddess. Any Gods or devils out there, or whoever put me the fuck here- fucking help me. Please._

I tensed when I heard footsteps from the other side and pressed myself to the shelf as if it would help me.

Then the door slid open.

There was a long silence as neither of us spoke or moved.

"You know," she started at last, putting her hand on the doorframe. Her thin eyebrow rose, lips pursed. "I didn't think that'll you take my words that seriously. And certainly didn't expect you to go all the way to defy C-Sec just to do it."

"What can I say?" I grimaced at the hoarse tone in my voice and cleared my throat. "You made an impression."

"How are you feeling?" She asked. That simple question caused me to tense up, my gut knotting together in worry.

"What's going to…" I pushed myself up the wall, my hand sliding up it as leverage to pull myself to my feet. I steadily set my jaw, the cool surface of the shelf on the side felt soothing. "What's going to happen to me?"

No point in dragging this out.

If I was going to die- I wanted it straight.

"What do you think you slacker?" She grabbed my coveralls off the hanger and tossed it to me. "Get back to work."

 **What?**

Her proclamation came as such a surprise that I didn't react quick enough to catch it, so the uniform was chucked into my face and draped over my head. I dumbly stood there as her words slowly processed in my brain- then I yanked off the clothing and chased after her.

"W-wait." I held the uniform in my trembling hands and stumbled forward, dazed by this news. Bronx wasn't here- he was by the front entrance, not looking too plussed when he caught my eye. But I was too confused to care, I fumbled after Akira. "W-what's happening? Fist isn't going to kill me? I'm not fired?"

"No," she stopped, turning to face me. "Things carry on as it is."

I stared at her in my confounded state. "But… what about C-Sec? Isn't Fist angry?"

"You are still going to do as they told you," at my deepening frown, she elaborated. "Nothing has changed really. Except that you'll only be telling them what we want you to tell them."

It finally clicked in my head. "So- wait, is this like a… double agent thing?" I asked, attempting to grasp the concept of what she was telling me. "So, I'm snitching you guys to C-Sec still, but only snitching what you want me to snitch?"

My head span, and it was clearly written over my face so she released a sigh. "Look, you are a janitor, it's highly unlikely that C-Sec expects you to be giving them a trove of information. Just the occasional report on the staff to help them narrow down their list of options and guess when are we planning something or shit like that."

"So- just to clarify..." I couldn't help the smile that was gradually growing on my lips, along with the growing feeling of relief that welled up in my chest. "I'm not going to have my throat torn out and have my head mounted on Fist's wall? I'm good?"

"And what, so one of us gets slapped with a murder charge?" She smirked at me, I almost glowed. "Hell no."

"Is my uh... " I shifted on my feet. "I'm sorry, I have to ask- is my paycheck unaffected? Like- my pay isn't cancelled or anything? Everything is still the same with the exception of occasionally relaying information?"

"For the most part," she shrugged.

I scuffed my shoe nervously, glancing over at Bronx before averting my eyes from the krogan. "Did… did you tell Fist this idea? Or did he come to the conclusion by himself?"

"I'd love to take credit for it but no, it was all his."

"I'm surprised he didn't fire me and be done with it." I muttered, scratching my cheek.

"Because firing you would spook C-Sec off that he knows what they are up to," she said simply before a worried frown crossed her face, concern flashing within her emerald gaze. "Look, earlier, when I asked how you felt, I was serious. I know Fist has… quite a temper when it comes to it."

I nearly laughed at the question, swiping my hair out of my face. "I had no idea what I was going to do. If I was going to die- I'd say stressed is an appropriate word." I raked a hand through my tresses. "But now that I know it's gonna be okay… I feel better."

"You sure?" She peered at me worryingly. I suddenly felt an appreciation toward my supervisor, realising she wasn't as bad as I first thought. "You can take the day off if you want, take your mind off all this madness for a while."

"Thank you, seriously. And I would," I gave her a grateful look, leaning my hip against the wall. It was very tempting to take the day off. Incredibly so. All I wanted to do was curl up on the couch, maybe eat a bowl of cereal and watch the crappy reality TV show that I had started the other day. It was the type where it was so bad it was good. "But, as I've stated before- I have rent to pay. I can't risk a day off."

"Take the day off, don't worry about it." Akira bent her knees a little until she was down at my head level. "If it makes you feel any better you can always take up another shift to make up for it."

I was unsure, but gave a firm nod of my head. "Alright," my shoulders relaxed and I untensed my arms. "Thanks Akira."

"Don't mention it, now get out of here kid."

I gave another nod, smiling as I did before returning back to the closet to hang up my coveralls. It's nice I supposed, that I'll be back before midnight for once.

"Hey," Yulana smiled at me as I passed her at the bar on my way out. "Leaving early today?"

"Akira suggested I take it easy today, due to um… circumstances." I threw her a shrug. "I'll take an extra shift to make up for it though."

"Did something happen?" She asked, lips pulled together in concern. "Your skin seems more colored than usual, especially around your eyes and nose."

"I gues- I mean no." I sighed, rubbing my temple. I didn't feel like dragging more people into this mess I got myself into. "I'm good, don't worry about it." She didn't seem very convinced. Yulana poked out her hip, placing a hand on it as she sent me a dubious look. I forced a smile and waved her off, to which she shook her head. "Don't worry Yulana, I'm good, I'm good. I just need some sleep."

She looked like she was going to drop it, but then seemed to stop and stared at me, eyes regarding me with a thoughtful glisten. I immediately began to feel a little uncomfortable and shifted on my feet, placing my hand on the bar counter. "What?"

"You know, my friend is having a party tomorrow night," she informed me, leaning over. In the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but notice her rather large bosom press against the counter. I wasn't even sure I was bi- or into aliens. Or even just a pervert- but it was very hard to miss. _They're huge._

A small pang of envy pierced my chest, but I ignored it. What sort of party, I wondered. Hopefully I wasn't being invited to a crack house- probably bad of me to stereotype but I'd rather not be involved in any more unnecessary drama. "Oh?"

Her mouth spread from ear to ear, a wicked grin graced her pretty features. I was suddenly nervous. "You should join."

"Oh, I- I don't know," a party was the last thing on my mind right now.

"I need a plus one," She nudged me gently in the forearm, tilting her head. Then her gaze flashed mischievously, her voice light and playful. "Free drinks and _foooood_ ,"

"How is it," I started, taking a seat at the stool, resting my legs on the feet stand attached to the bottom. "That you haven't even known me for that long- yet, you realise my weakness for free food."

 _Especially since I can barely afford it these days._

"I can read people easily," she swatted a dismissive hand. "It's part of my job."

This bit of news shouldn't have even affected me, but it did. My spine stiffened ever so slightly and I had to put my hand on my knee to stop it from bouncing. _Fuck. If she can read people, how will I hide things from her?_ "Really? Are you good at it?"

"The fact that I am at least twenty times your senior probably has something to do with that too." She smirked, leaning down on the counter and propping up her head lazily with her hand. "So, what do you say?"

I tapped a finger along the painted metal, gaze slowly trailing the chipped nail varnish staining my nails. "I'll have to think about it."

"Don't take too long," she leaned over just enough to flick me in the forehead teasingly before sliding away to the other side of the bar, flipping up a glass and placing it onto the counter. I watched as she poured the alcoholic beverage, looking at the amber coloured liquid bouncing around the edges of the glass.

A ping from my omni-tool drew my attention away with a frown. I didn't have much contacts at the moment. Hell, my contact list was almost virtually nonexistent with the exception of Laben's. And he's busy with work right now, so who else could it-

Ah. Right.

I was almost tempted to ignore it just out of spite, but given the hold he currently held over me, that wouldn't be very wise. Letting out a long sufferable sigh, I acquiesced, tapping a quick command into my 'tool and opened the message.

 _"Miss Daniels,_

 _As I promised, C-Sec can be generous to those who aid us. A small sum has been deposited into your account, take it as a sign on bonus._

 _Be smart and delete this once you are done reading it._

 _Regards, Styczyński."_

At least they had the decency to keep their promise. I thought the pay would have been taken away after he threatened to arrest me and just use this hold as blackmail but apparently when he said I'd be getting paid for this shit storm bound to be brewing; he had truly meant it.

My eyes scanned the number before they widened to the size of plates, threatening to drop out of my sockets. 600 credits.

600 credits weren't really a large sum by any means, but given my current circumstances it was a godsend and a blessing. There's so much I could do with 600 credits, choices that were previously closed off to me due to lack of sufficient funds were now opened to me, a staggering list of things I could do, buy and improve my situation...

I took a deep breath, eyes closing and calming myself before slowly went over my available options. New clothing to start. I really needed some pairs before someone started taking notice that I've never changed my clothing. At all. That's going to bring up a lot of questions I didn't feel comfortable with answering. And pajamas perhaps. If I still had some leftovers maybe I'll consider it.

 _And new underwear too. Dear God, I really needed a few extra pairs of those._

Food. Not that I'm lacking in any right now but really, consuming cheap cereal and unhealthy, but cheap preserved canned food for almost two weeks straight was without a doubt damning to my health. Last thing I needed was to start falling ill and be forced to pour credits into medication.

Toiletries… nice to have but they could wait. Not something I placed under essential things I needed.

A new omni-tool would be nice too. The one I'm using right now, as I had discovered, was a third generation BlueWire Tool from Aldrin Labs. At least twenty years outdated and an utter piece of junk by modern comparison. Unfortunately, acquiring a replacement right now would be too costly and painful to even consider.

Not to mention unwise, since a better, more advanced and modern omni-tool would serve me no real purpose since I'm no hacker or particularly tech savvy.

As much as I regretted working for that C-sec dick, this… didn't seem that bad. Suddenly, doors were options to open in my world. I could safely sit in my apartment, that I easily paid rent for- and eat a take out whilst watching a crappy vid like _Blasto_ if I wanted to. I could take a shower before changing into new clothes or pjs.

Whilst pajamas would be nice, it wasn't a priority. However, sleeping bare wasn't… unpleasant. It was unrestricting and kind of relaxing. I just had to hope Laben respected privacy and didn't storm into my room without knocking first- but he didn't seem the type, like my grandmother was. Laben made the rule of knocking in the first place as a part of the courtesy rule when living together. He found privacy important- so did I.

… and there's protection. A personal firearm.

Not something that had ever crossed my mind in the past. It was unthinkable. Not that I shared the mindset of one of those gun-right activists and their bullshit, it was just that… well, there wasn't really a need to own one.

Now? After all the shit I got myself into?

Owning one seemed wise. Except I had no idea how to use one, and owning a firearm without being trained in it's proper use or having some familiarity with it was the only thing more dangerous than being threatened by someone with a gun. Far more likely that I'll end up shooting myself in the foot if anything goes off. Or do something stupid with it.

Not to mention I'll most likely require a permit or license before I could purchase one. Which also costs credits. I could of course attempt to purchase one illegally, but that could end up shoveling me deeper into the big pile of shit I was struggling to dig myself out of. Especially if C-Sec found out, then I would find myself adding 'unlawful possession of a deadly weapon' into the list of charges they were currently holding over my head. Not to mention I had no idea who to even approach for that in the first place.

Kinetic barriers on the other hand…

Those didn't require permits or licenses. Not to mention much cheaper than a gun.

It's not going to help me by much if I ever found myself in a sticky situation, but it would however, buy me enough time to escape from it unharmed.

I wondered if I requested a gun from them for my own protection, that they would consider it.

The customer placed a talon on his stool and grabbed the drink with his other hand, leaning back into his chair to relax before scanning around Chora's Den to enjoy the _view_. I felt my head tilt to the side whilst I analysed the turian, realising he had no facial markings. _Hmm, odd… wasn't being barefaced uncommon or something?_

I made a note to read into it later on the extranet.

For now- I wanted to go shopping.

Excited over the new prospects, I stood up and tucked the stool in, getting ready to leave.

The atmosphere was a little humid, with a surprisingly amount of people buzzing around the markets. An asari women stood at one stall with her child, holding tightly to her hand whilst bargaining with a salarian, who seemed to be frustrating the woman so much there was almost a purple-pink tinge to her azure cheeks. A krogan towered over this one turian, but appeared rather tame and calm, quietly talking with him. I saw a bunch of aliens filling the large space, some even merging with humans. But I saw more alien than I did of my own kind.

There was an asari standing behind one stall and I approached, narrowly sidestepping one person who stormed through the horde of people. She yelled someone's name, then became engulfed by the crowd. I placed my hand on the counter of the stall, lifting a hand to wave and get her attention.

"Excuse me!" I politely cleared my throat, she shifted to my place, leaning over so I could hear her over the lively markets.

"Please scan our items using your omni-tool! Just connect and use the terminal to make a purchase!" She raised her voice, so I could understand. I nodded and moved away from the mass horde.

A lot of dresses made in the similar fashion I had seen a lot of asari wear around here. Ankle length, with slits down the side around the waist area. Some were less modest, and had a daring cut down the middle to the chest, which no doubt revealed a lot of cleavage. I passed on that one and kept scanning. There were a few good torso pieces for human females, elegant looking blouses and professional working shirts, I then eventually decided to check out the male section.

There were some interesting looking sleek trousers, along with some suits. I added some trousers from that section to my basket, before adding a comfortable blouse, purchasing a skirt with a nice shirt and two dresses, along with underwear. _Finally, clean underwear._ _And at least people won't look at me oddly when I walk about in my new clothing._

Due to the sale that drew most of the people here today, I learned that it didn't come to much- and I bought one more thing; A lilac pencil skirt that stopped above the knees, with two odd thin suspender straps leading up to a deep blue vest top, which covered the neck and had short sleeves. It was strange, but bought it.

 _A lot of the fashion nowadays seem to lead to one suit outfits… unless it's an asari dominated area._

 _50 credits well spent_ , I thought.

Shopping for a civilian grade kinetic barrier for personal protection on the other hand, proved to be unsurprisingly much more complicated than I had actually thought is would be. 

My knowledge of armors extended only to the ballistics resistant vests and that they 'stop bullets'. Here? Protection came in three different forms: shields, the armor and built in microcomputers that responds instantly to provide rapid response to any injuries that may occur with auto dispensated medi and omni-gel.

After long deliberations, and frustration to the condescending turian who owned the shop, I ended up with a simple and 'cheap' shield generator that would provide me with some limited protection should I find myself in a nasty situation. 'Cheap'. That damned thing had cost me nearly 400 credits, and at best could only top up to two, three shots before collapsing. Four if I'm really lucky.

Oh, and it had a heat problem, so I should keep it on for more than thirty minutes less I want that thing to short circuit.

On the bright side, it was easily concealable. It looked just like utility belt, except that instead of tools it held a micropower unit that provided power to the shield generator installed right beside it. Nobody would even look at me twice if I wore it under my clothes.

What's left of my 'sign on bonus' was quickly spent on a few other basic necessities, small things here and there that would make my stay more comfortable. A small odd sense of satisfaction swelled within me when I saw that my room wasn't as bare as before. Almost nice to have more than a few things that I could actually claim ownership off other than just the clothes on my back.

A longing pang hit me out of nowhere but I sighed and brushed off the homesickness that wrenched my gut. I told myself it was okay. That I would be fine. This was all temporary until I got home.

I dragged the chair by the side over to the window, leaning back into it and crossing my leg over the other. I teared a piece of the orange peel in my hand, gaze drawn to the bird's eye view of the wards. It was during the night cycle, lights on in some apartments, cars zipping forward in their high traffic.

I had a theory- well I had a bunch. But one was ringing clearly around in my skull that to get home, I needed to complete the game.

A frown knitted my eyebrows together. I gnawed on the inside of my cheek and released a sharp exhaled, gradually picking bits of the orange. _Complete the game, get out._

The other theory, was that to go back to my previous life, I needed to die in this one. But that was a risk I wasn't quite willing to do. I didn't want to die. I didn't have a massive life but it just seemed unfair. I had a family. I had friends. I probably didn't have any influence on the world at all but I deserved a chance, just like everyone else.

But….

To complete the game, I needed to join Shepard.

I had already thought about it. About how to survive in this world, it was ironically by the main protagonists side. Tucked in the front seat of danger, staring death in the face with every breathing moment. I could die instantly on the field. I wouldn't even know, I could get sniped in the head or hauled off on a Collector ship to be turned into a human reaper.

The image of me being converted into a human liquid was incredibly unpleasant, that I physically shuddered, a terrified shiver raking down my spine.

Either way, if I didn't join Shepard there was still a high chance of that happening. If I stayed out of it, if I stayed at home- in this apartment. I could potentially be turned into a husk. The reapers would destroy the Citadel. This apartment will break into tiny pieces. Laben….

My mouth thinned.

I hadn't known the guy long, but I didn't want him to just die.

I didn't want to get attached to anyone, seeing as how they could just die so _easily_. Any romantic partners were purely out of the question. But I was living with Laben, it was impossible to not get to know him and hard to not be friends with the guy.

If I could, I would convince him to move somewhere safe. Somehow… I didn't know how though- it seemed inevitable. If there was somewhere safe, I would be there in the blink of an eye by now.

My path was strongly drifting to Shepard, by the looks of things.

A dry smile painted my mouth. Glory and friendship awaits at the end point if I survive, right?

I highly doubt that would be the case here however. Because believe it or not, the games seemed to make things go a little _too_ smoothly in the third game. Too smoothly especially considering that they are going up against a race of cthulhu like genocidal machines who had been exterminating life for millions of years. Whose main weapon was a red laser beam that cuts through shields and armour of a warship like it were butter. Or melting a skyscraper to slag.

Expecting things to go as smoothly as it did in the games would be as stupid as charging off into war after watching Rambo. Then finding out that war itself was less like how it looked in Rambo but more of Saving Private Ryan but a hundred times more hellish.

I stripped a piece of the orange, biting down into it. A citric taste burst onto my tongue and I chewed down on the fruit. _Would Shepard even recruit me? Worse, what if they were the Renegade Shep? A downright asshole. Shepard could be anyone._

At this thought, I decided to put the orange aside, wipe my hands and use my omni-tool to search the extranet, typing in one thing:

 _Commander Shepard._

A shit tonne of results came up. But the top article that caught my eye chilled me to the bone and killed what little enthusiasm I had for joining the Normandy.

 ** _Fuck. Me._**

 _Alliance Drops All Charges Against Torfan Butcher Despite Outcry._

There was a photo of her, telling me that Shepard is also female. The description put a coiling in my stomach, along with the image. Shep had short, jet black hair. It was short and spiked up with blue tips. Her skin was olive toned and flaring, bright emerald eyes stared straight at the camera. My gaze trailed the scar that stretched across her forehead, nearing her brow.

"Fuck me." I hissed, then let out a dragging groan, muttering to myself. "Fuck. _Fuck_!"

We were potentially doomed.

Shepard was a Renegade.


End file.
